Under the Radar
by alluringdreams
Summary: She wasn't supposed to fall for him—that wasn't the plan. It only made leaving him so much harder. [A spy/CIA AU, in which Betty and Jughead are partners. Bughead always!]
1. Agent Cooper

_Click. Click. Click. _The heels of her boots echoed sharply throughout the halls of Riverdale High. She hardly spared a glance towards the trophies, pictures, and posters that lined the walls. This was not the time to get sentimental.

Betty slowed her pace when she neared the gymnasium, untying her trench coat to feel for her weapon. She pulled out the pistol to check if it was loaded. It was.

There was one last thing she had to do.

She took a deep breath and dialed a number on her phone, stopping short of the gymnasium doors.

* * *

Elsewhere, Jughead's phone rang. "No, no, _no—_ not this phone, Betty…" he muttered angrily to himself as he grabbed for the device. She was calling his personal cell, not his burner phone. His cell was tapped, she knew that; she knew they were listening. They were always listening.

"Betty," he answered, stressfully pacing his apartment. "You don't have to do this. Please—_don't_ do this."

"_I'm sorry, Jughead..." _

"This is _his_ fault, not yours," he pressed on, determined to stop her. Little did he know that her mind was already made up.

"_I should have never told you, that morning in bed. I should have just said I love you…"_

"I love you too. Now _please_—come home," he begged. "Come home to me, Betty."

"_It's too late, now, Juggie..." _

"No," he insisted. "No, it's not. Betty—"

"_This has to be done."_

"No, Betty—"

He heard her take a final deep breath. "_Goodbye, Juggie."_

"Betty, no, _stop!_" He was yelling now, but she couldn't hear him anymore. "_Betty!"_

_BANG! BANG! BANG! _

Three shots were fired.

"_Betty!_" He screamed into the line.

A heavy thud—the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground—and then silence. A long silence.

Finally, an unexpected voice—one he never thought he'd hear: "Agent Cooper is dead."

Jughead collapsed where he was, dropping his phone in shock.

"I repeat: Betty Cooper is dead."

* * *

(ONE YEAR EARLIER)

"We need her, Alice."

Alice Smith fought to hide her emotions. She was conflicted—part of her knew her daughter wasn't ready, but part of her knew they were running out of time.

"Alice." FP stood from his desk and walked over to the window where Alice stood. "I wouldn't ask you do to this if it wasn't absolutely necessary."

"I know that," she snapped, shrugging off the hand he placed on her shoulder. She took a sharp breath and tried to recompose herself. "It's just...she hasn't even finished her training at the Farm. She's not ready, FP."

"Actually…" FP paused to grab a file from his desk. He handed it to Alice. "She's the best agent we've had in years."

Alice frowned, but took a few seconds to read the first page.

_GENERAL INFORMATION:_

_Name: Elizabeth Cooper. Age: 22. Eyes: Green. Hair: Blonde. Ethnicity: Caucasian._

_SKILLS ASSESSMENT:_

_Running: 10_

_Hand-to-Hand Combat: __10_

_Long Range Shooting: __10_

_Weapon Assembly/Disassembly: 10_

_Driving: 10 _

She stopped before she got to the end of the list, looking up at FP in disbelief. "Wait—this is _my _daughter?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, Alice, it is."

"But...she has all 10s." She knew she raised Betty right. Smart. But, her scores were literally _perfect_. "No one's scored perfectly on the Farm since _your_ kid…"

"Exactly. I think she'd make the perfect parter for him." FP looked at her in mild amusement, raising a single eyebrow. "She's _good_, Alice. And she's ready. She may not have graduated from the Farm yet, but...it's time. We need her."

Alice felt a little more calm—and a little bit of pride—knowing her daughter was capable of taking care of herself. But this mission, she knew, would be dangerous. She'd be throwing her daughter right into the fire.

But, did they have a choice?

"Okay," she said softly. "I'll make the call."

"I'm sure you can tell me _something!_" Betty exclaimed in frustration.

The guard escorting her sighed. "Ma'am, like I said, I have no idea why you are being pulled out of training. All I know is that General Weatherbee wants to see you immediately." Everyone on the Farm knew that seeing the General meant trouble.

Betty looked at him bitterly. "You interfered with my target shooting, you know." She was on her way to setting yet _another_ perfect score in the archery course, when this guard came out of nowhere, making her shoot a tree instead of her target. "You could have waited 'til I finished my course."

"Orders are orders, ma'am," was all the guard said, making Betty roll her eyes in annoyance. Thankfully, he left her upon reaching the General's office.

"Door's open, Cooper," General Weatherbee said shortly, not even bothering to look up at her while he signed some papers. Betty's mind began to race, wondering what she could've done wrong to have her called so suddenly into the General's office. She performed perfectly, in every exercise, except for the one today.

"Sir," she started, recalling how the guard so rudely interrupted her, "if this is about messing up during target shooting today, I'd really like to say that it wasn't my—"

"Relax, Cooper. You aren't in any trouble."

Betty sighed in relief, unclenching her fists that had just begun to dig into her palms. She started to sit down, but the General abruptly said, "Don't sit. No time for that."

She stood straighter, looking at him in confusion. "Sir?"

He shuffled through the papers in front of him one more time. "You're going in the field," he said simply.

_What?! _

Betty shook her head aggressively, looking at him in surprise. "Wait...w—_when?_"

"Tomorrow."

_How?! Why?! _She had so many questions; this was unheard of. "But...my training...I haven't even finished my—"

"Orders are orders. Someone higher up clearly wants you. First thing in the morning, you are to report to Langley. 10 AM sharp."

Now rendered speechless, she stared down at the papers Weatherbee handed her. _She was going into the field…? As a trainee?_

Weatherbee looked at her expectantly, raising a single eyebrow. "Cooper?" he asked, when she hadn't moved. She slowly shifted her stunned gaze to his and he looked towards his door. "Go. _Now_."

For once in her life, perfect Betty Cooper was unprepared.

* * *

**Just trying this idea out! Also please check out my other story, Remember Me. :)**

**Please review and leave me your thoughts! Did you like it? **

***also, I'm curious if anyone can guess what spy show I'm loosely basing this off of...! ***


	2. Bet?

**Well. My fingers slipped and I wrote a little smut. Sorry (not sorry). I haven't YET adjusted the ratings to Mature, but if people like it, I will. If feedback from people isn't good, I might edit it back to suit "Teen" audiences.**

**A start/end note *like this* will warn for Explicit Material coming up.**

* * *

Betty had been successful all her life for one reason: she was always prepared. She studied. She planned. She practiced.

She succeeded.

Her system worked; it certainly worked for her on the Farm. First, she'd study each exercise weeks before the trainees were going to be tested. Next, she'd plan her schedule so she had enough time to review the exercises and look for tips on how to improve. Finally, she'd spend her off-training hours practicing—and practicing, and practicing some more.

The point is, she always had a plan...until now.

Getting activated for a mission threw a major wrench in her system. She was not expecting to leave the Farm before her training was complete—nor was she expecting to be pulled for a mission so early.

"It's okay. You can do this," Betty muttered to herself, staring up at the entrance to Langley from the bottom of the steps. She took a deep breath, and reflexively reached up to tighten the ponytail that sat high on her head—a habit she picked up whenever she was about to do something big.

"This late to the CIA? You _must_ be new."

Startled, Betty glanced towards the new voice, where a _very_ good-looking ginger was approaching her from behind. Betty shyly tossed half a smile to the red-head. "Do I look _that_ lost?"

He laughed, flashed her megawatt smile, and stopped beside her. "No, not at all. My name's Archie."

"Betty," she replied, shaking the hand he offered. She smiled at him and cocked an eyebrow. "So, uh...is this your thing?" she asked, as they moved up the steps together.

He tilted his head slightly. "Is _what_ my thing?

"You know, waiting outside and chatting up the new girls?"

She wanted to laugh at Archie's slight blush. It was adorable. "Yeah, yeah—I'm both lazy and predatory," he replied a joking grin. She was grateful for his sarcasm and humor; it made her feel a million times more calm.

Archie was a huge help. He showed her where to get her badge, and pointed things out as they walked.

"There's a Starbucks in here?" she asked incredulously.

He laughed. "Yup. Imagine trying to be a barista in here—regular polygraphs and background checks every year. Replaced on the regular."

After a casual tour he led her down one of the wings towards a particular door, where he stopped. "This is where I leave you."

"Wha—you're not coming with me?" Betty asked, suddenly sad that good company was leaving her.

"I have to report to the DCS," he said apologetically. "Besides, you have a polygraph to get to."

_DCS? Director of Clandestine Services?_ "Wait, you work for F. P. Jones?" Betty was floored. She remembered learning about Jones during her training. He was a well respected and powerful individual, very high up the chain of authority.

"The one and only!" Archie began to walk away, but shot her an encouraging grin. "You got this, Betty!" He waved, before disappearing through another set of doors.

_Her first polygraph._ Betty nervously smoothed her pencil skirt down and adjusted the collar of the green top she wore. With one last deep breath, she walked in.

* * *

It didn't take long for all the wires, sensors, and heart monitors to get attached to her body. She barely had time to think before she was seated in a cold metal chair, facing the stone-faced man who was administering her test.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions just to establish a control," he said. "Your name is Elizabeth Cooper?"

_Easy_. "Yes."

"And you are 22 years old?"

"Yes."

"You reside in Washington D.C.?"

"Yes. By the Waterfront."

"You speak seven languages?"

Betty smiled proudly at that fact and nodded. "I travel a lot. Languages come very easily to me."

"A 'yes' or 'no' answer is fine."

Betty's smile faded quick. _Geez, what a jerk_, she thought, glaring at the stony-faced man. "Yes," she replied coolly, trying to bury her annoyance.

"Good. Let's move onto some personal questions..." The man flipped through the file in front of him. "You told us in a prior interview that your last serious relationship ended two years ago?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"And you met abroad?"

Betty smiled at the memory. "Yes. In Santorini..."

_Greece. She never expected it to look so beautiful._

_The ocean waters were crystal clear—so clear you could see straight down to the sea bottom, even from far out in the waters. Betty had never been anywhere more beautiful than this. She stayed at a stunning resort right on the beach. White stone architecture reached up to meet rooftops that were painted a topaz blue, matching the vibrant color of the sea. _

_She was only supposed to stay there for a few days. But then she met _him_, and he changed her life. _

_A few days turned into a few weeks—the best weeks of her life. _

_Kisses in the sand. Long nights spent on warm beaches. Skinny dipping in the ocean. Stargazing on the rooftops. _

_It was a phenomenal romance. All because of him._

"Were you in love?" The question pulled her from her reverie and back to the polygraph. She paused on her answer. _Was_ she in love?

"_The seashells are special, they have magical powers." A little boy of only six or seven was speaking to Betty and her beau, trying to sell them on some handmade seashell bracelets. _

_Betty gave the little boy an amused smile and decided to humor him. "And what powers are that?" she replied in Greek, eyeing the bracelets curiously. _

"_The shells represent a very special bond. If you wear one, and he wears one, then you're lives will be forever intertwined!" The boy excitedly held out two seashell bracelets, looking at them with the cutest eyes she's ever seen. _

_Betty couldn't help but laugh. She looked at the man who held her in his arms, mirroring the boy's adorable expression. _

"_Not you too," Trev groaned. "Don't look at me like that!" Betty held his gaze teasingly, and he rolled his eyes with a smile. "Okay, okay. We'll take two," he told the young boy. _

_The kid bounced excitedly on his heels, handing them two shell bracelets and bowing his head in thanks. "Efcharistó! Efcharistó polý!" '_Thank you! Thank you very much!' _the boy was saying in Greek, before running off. _

_Betty watched with butterflies in her stomach as Trev tied the bracelet around her wrist with a neat bow, doing the same for his own. "So," he started, lacing his fingers with hers and hugging her waist from behind. "I guess this means you and I are intertwined..._forever_." He emphasized the word 'forever' with extreme drama, making her giggle. _

_Trev pressed loving kisses to the side of her temple and she grinned, hugging his arms close. She never wanted to let go. "Yeah. You're never getting rid of me." _

"Yes," Betty replied with a smile, replaying the memory in her head. "We were in love."

The man glanced at her curiously before asking, "And the sex was good?"

Betty's eyebrows shot up in amusement. _Was the sex good? _Her mind replayed their last time together.

***Start: Explicit material***

_Their room at the resort was unique. The windows were without glass, only having white curtains to shield them from the outside world. But they didn't mind. The nights were warm, and they eagerly welcomed the cool breeze that carried through their window from the sea. _

_Especially when nights got _extra _hot. _

_Breathless, Betty tossed her head back into the pillows, as Trev's tongue stroked her roughly, just where she liked it. "There..._yes—_Don't stop!" she moaned wildly, hands gripping tightly at the sheets. _

_Betty had been with other guys before. But they were boys. All of them._

_Trev wasn't a boy; Trev was a _man_. _

_He _knew _her. Knew her body. Knew where to touch her, how to touch her. Knew exactly how to make her fall apart. Every single time. _

"_Trev, oh baby, you're so—oh!—amazing...perfect..." She trailed off with a long moan, prompted by a particularly long swipe of his tongue from the bottom of her dripping center to the top of her clit, to which he paid extra attention. _

_She really did think he was perfect. _

_Trev quickened his pace with his tongue, encouraged by her loud, breathy moans. When he reached up to palm one of her breasts, she let out a surprised yelp; but when he suddenly curled two fingers into her, she arched her back into him even more. Grabbing his hair with her hands, she grinded shamelessly into his mouth, so badly needing release. "Baby," she panted, "I'm _so _close."_

_He responded with a low growl of approval. The vibrations of his voice combined with the motions of his tongue and quick thrusts of fingers sent her soaring over the edge. She came with a high-pitched squeal, riding it out with a long sigh of content. _

***End: Explicit Material***

"Oh yes." Betty smirked. "It rocked."

The man paused to flip a page. He cleared his throat before asking, "But it, uh—it didn't end well?"

Betty's confident smirk dissolved into a cold stare. _These questions were awfully personal_. "Yes...it ended badly."

_Betty woke up to sunshine streaming through the window, white curtains swaying delicately with the subtle sea breeze. She smiled at their view and closed her eyes, snuggling deeper into the covers as she listened to the ocean waves crashing on the shore. "If you keep this up, Trev, I'm gonna run out of moves," she called out, recalling the previous night's romp in the sack. _

_No response. _

"_Trev?" _

_She reached her left hand out blindly, searching for Trev's hand next to her—but her hand found nothing except cold, empty sheets. _

_Betty shot up quickly, holding the sheets around her and glancing at the empty space next to her. Panic began to rise in her chest, as she called out "Trev?" Her voice wavered. She knew she wasn't going to get a response. _

_Scanning the room, Betty noticed all his things were gone. She sat there, frozen and unable to move. He really just left...alone. Without saying goodbye. _

_Betty cried, against her will. They were in love...or so she thought. Her tears stained the one thing she found that he left behind—a note. _

_Through blurry vision, she read:_

The truth is complicated...Please forgive me.

"And did that bother you?"

'_Did it bother me?' Is he kidding?_ Betty thought bitterly. She felt her anger flare up, but only for a brief second. _Amateur move_, she thought, shaming herself and reeling her emotions in. Now was not the time to fail a polygraph.

So she pursed her lips, forcing herself to remain calm. "After a three-week whirlwind romance, my supposed dream guy left me in the middle of the night with nothing more than a $50 bar tab and a cryptic note. Wouldn't that bother _you_?" she challenged.

"We're looking for a yes or no, Miss Cooper."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and asked, "Can you repeat the question?"

The guy sighed and leaned forward, looking her in the eyes. "The question is this: If you decide to continue with the CIA, will you be able to separate your work life from your personal life?"

_Now that's easy answer. _

A slow—yet subtle—smile spread across Betty's face, followed by an utmost confident "Oh, yes."

The man glanced down at his computer screen to read the results from her answer.

Unsurprisingly, her answer was 100% true. Steady and unwavering, just like Betty.

* * *

A few minutes later, Betty was released. She stepped out into the hallway, stopping abruptly at the sound of clapping. It came from a tall young man, with dark brown hair parted meticulously to the side. _Good fashion, _she thought, noting how his navy blue vest matched his dress pants. The guy approached her with a smug smile. "I knew you'd pass!"

"I'm sorry...do I know you?" Betty looked at him, confused.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "But I know your mother, so I know _you_. She clearly raised you right if you were able to get out of polygraph _that_ quick."

"You know my mother?" she asked, surprised. _Small world. _

He just chuckled. "Oh, Betty, sweetie—_everyone_ knows who your mom is."

She opened her mouth to ask more, but he interrupted her, placing a finger in the air. "I would love to explain, but you have several people eagerly waiting for your arrival, so we should really get moving. Walk with me," he insisted, looping his arm through his and dragging her with him before she could protest. "I'm Kevin Keller, by the way. Our boss sent me to come fetch you."

"Okay Kevin Keller...can I ask you a question?"

"You may ask me several!"

"My mom...is she here today?" Betty asked hesitantly.

"Oh, she's here, alright." Kevin looked at her with a frown. "You didn't know that?"

"I haven't really spoken to her in years," Betty replied. She let out a stressed sigh and shrugged her shoulders, willing the uneasiness that was rising within her to roll away with the motion. "I know she's been CIA—she read me in a long time ago. But she's never been allowed to talk about things with me, and then we lost touch over the past few years. So, I guess I've been in the dark; I don't know much about...whatever it is she does here."

"Boy, Cooper, you've got some tea—and I am _here_ for it." Kevin wiggled his eyebrows rapidly, making her snicker. He stopped them at a pair of double glass doors. "As for your mother...well, let's just say your days of being in the dark are over."

Betty looked up at the doors. In crisp, white paint, above the CIA logo, were the words: DOMESTIC PROTECTION DIVISION. "Oh," she whispered.

Kevin opened the door, gesturing inside. "Welcome home to the DPD, Cooper!"

"Welcome home, indeed," she muttered, scanning the busy room as they entered. "Jeez, it's like a bee-hive in here!"

It truly was. People were _everywhere_. Some were running from desk to desk with files in their hands; some were talking heatedly on the phone. She saw a few offices on the second floor, where a few guys gathered around some _very_ expensive looking computers.

"That," Kevin said, following her line of sight, "is Tech Ops. I lead that department." His chest puffed out proudly and she laughed.

"Impressive!"

"Thank you!" He suddenly paused their walk, leaning into her and crinkling his nose. "Hmm...Jo Malone? Vanilla?"

Betty stared at him, amazed that he recognized her brand of perfume. "Wow, um, _yes—_am I wearing too much perfume?"

He gave an approving smile and tugged her along to the second floor. "Nah, it's subtle. Most girls around here lay it on so thick, it's like they're _trying_ to drown their men so it's easier to take them home."

"_Wow_, okay." Betty gave a short laugh. "Well I guess I'm not like 'most girls' around here. I don't do office romances. They never end well."

"_Au contraire_, my dear!" he said cheerily, waving briefly to his Tech Ops team as they passed by. "The CIA actually encourages dating within the agency. Keeps things within the _circle of trust_." Kevin winked at her. "Besides, don't knock it 'til you try it. There are plenty of _yummy_ snacks around here."

"Yummy snacks, huh?" Betty replied, both doubtful and amused. They stopped to wait in front of their boss's office, so Betty took the opportunity to observe the people working below her. It was the bullpen, Kevin had explained, where every agent in the DPD worked. If you weren't out in the field, you were at your desk in the bullpen.

Betty leaned against the railing as she peered down, paying particular attention to the men. She was mostly unimpressed. "Yeah...I don't think so."

Kevin nudged her and followed her gaze down below. "C'mon! It's like being a kid in a candy store. Hubba-hubbas _everywhere_!" He sighed dreamily, and she could practically see hearts floating around his head. Betty snickered, causing him to roll his eyes. "Fine, laugh if you want. But just you wait, Betty Cooper—you'll have your own piece of man candy before you know it!"

She laughed at him, baffled by his insistence. "I most certainly will not! I told you, Kevin, I don't do office romances."

"Bet?" he challenged. She narrowed her eyes at his smug face. "I bet that you'll be crushing _hard_, by the end of the week."

She placed her hands on her hips, staring at him incredulously. "It's Wednesday, you're _so_ gonna lose."

He grinned. "Then bet me! Loser pays for beers at Pop's Tavern on Friday."

"Fine!" She stuck her hand out confidently, smirking at Kevin. "Bet."

He shook it, looking at her just as smugly. "You're gonna lose, Cooper."

"You have, like, two days." Betty scoffed. "That beer is _mine_, Keller."

"Yours to _pay_ for," he corrected.

"You are so cocky!" she exclaimed, "I can't believe you really think—"

The door to the Director's office suddenly flew open and a young man came barreling out, slamming hard into Betty. "_Whoa—_" she cried, lurching forward so fast that she lost her balance. She hit the railing with enough momentum to drive her over, but a strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back before she could fall.

"_Jesus_," she shouted, just as she heard Kevin say, "Where's the damn fire, Jones?"

"I am so sorry, are you okay?"

Betty angrily muttered a string of profanities—in a couple different languages—and was fully prepared to tell off the guy who ran her over. But as she placed a hand on his chest, twisting around in his grip to face him, her anger disappeared.

Betty noticed two things instantly.

First of all—and most important of all—he was a _goddamn_ _beautiful man_. Holy shit, was he attractive. "Tall, dark, and handsome" just didn't do him justice. He had a lean build, but was muscular and hard in all the right places—like the chiseled chest she felt beneath her hand. And he had a striking pair of blue-green eyes, with the most beautiful dark hair she'd ever seen on a guy. _So, so attractive_, Betty almost melted into his chest.

Second of all—he looked angry. She could practically _feel_ the distress rolling off of him.

Betty frowned up at him as she searched his face, trying to read more into his emotions. "Are you okay?" she asked suddenly.

He looked at her weird. "Am _I_ okay? _You're_ the one who almost got tossed into the bullpen."

"Yeah, nice welcome, Jughead," Kevin scoffed from off to the side. Jughead turned to glare at him.

"Yes, you," Betty replied, pushing gently on his chest so she could right herself back on two feet. To her disappointment, he dropped the arm he had wrapped around her waist. She already missed it.

_Get yourself together, Cooper, _she mentally told herself. Betty cleared her throat and smoothed out her skirt, looking back at Jughead. "You just look a little, um...stressed." She chose a careful word, not wanting to offend him by mistake.

He stared at her strangely before frowning slightly. "I'm not stressed."

"Sorry, I was being nice," Betty said with a tentative smile. "I meant _angry_—you look more pissed off than anything else."

"I'm fine," Jughead replied shortly, facial features hardening once again. He wasn't fine, but she didn't fight him on it. She knew she was right. He stared at her for a few moments longer, looking as if he was trying to figure something out. Then, he abruptly looked away, saying, "I gotta go. Sorry again about that."

Betty was staring after him for several seconds more before Kevin's snicker off to the side drew her attention. She glanced at him in annoyance. "Oh, what now?"

"That beer is _so_ mine, Cooper."

"You—" Betty's cheeks felt hot as she blushed. "Not gonna happen," she argued quietly.

"Hmm..." Kevin mused aloud. "Maybe I should order several beers—or maybe a pitcher, just to be safe? Although I haven't had a good flight of beer in a while, maybe that's a better option..."

Betty shook her head and swallowed hard, hoping the deep attraction she just felt for that man would disappear as quickly as he did—and hopefully before Friday. As she was about to reply with something witty, a familiar voice spoke up from off to the side. "Elizabeth."

In the doorway to their boss's office stood her mother.

Betty blinked rapidly, stunned and confused. "_Mom?_"

"Come in, Elizabeth. We haven't much time," her mother said, turning on her heel to return to her desk.

Betty stood frozen to the spot for several seconds. Then she turned on Kevin, hissing under her breath, "A warning about my mother would've been nice!"

"What?" He asked innocently. "I told you!"

"You just said she was here today—you didn't tell me she was _our __boss_!"

"Okay, I slipped up—my bad!" Kevin said, but he was grinning devilishly. "I'll owe you one!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Damn straight you will, Keller."

* * *

**Jughead hubba-hubba Jones (heart eyes)!**

**Still interesting? I'm so excited, next chapter is her first mission. I will likely upload within the next 24 hours!**

**_Q: Do you prefer M or T fics?_****_ I genuinely want to hear what you like to read!_**

***The smut was totally unplanned**—**but it was fun and new for me! If it gets good feedback, I'll likely throw in a few more scenes for Betty and her future partner(s)... If not, I'll cut it out, and revert back to T :)**


	3. Elevators

When Betty walked into her mother's office, she noted as many things as possible.

First, the room. It was neurotically neat, not to Betty's surprise. The different sized files and organizers lining the walls reminded her of what her mother used to say when she was a kid: _A place for everything, and everything in its place, Elizabeth!_

Even her mother's desk was organized very specifically. Things that made straight lines—pencils, pens, papers, folders, the stapler, the calculator —were strategically arranged either parallel or perpendicular to each other. She recalled another lesson: _Anything that's not a right angle, is a wrong angle!_

Betty hated all those rules.

Next, she noticed how the office lacked any of Alice's personality. No pictures of herself, nor of her two daughters. No family portraits or pictures of their old house, which she knew her mother loved dearly.

The nameplate on her desk said ALICE SMITH, and Betty looked at it curiously, wondering when her mother had dropped her father's last name and reverted back to Smith. _ Had it really been that long?_

"Was the drive from the Farm ok?" Alice asked suddenly, pulling papers from one file into another.

"What?" Betty was startled by her mother's voice. She hasn't heard it in so long, she honestly forgot what it sounded like.

"The drive. Did you have any trouble getting here?" Her mother asked again, still sorting through her files.

"No...the drive was fine." _ The drive? Really? _They haven't seen each other in four years and the first thing her mother asks her is _how was the drive?_

Betty frowned and started to sit down, but Alice stopped her. "Actually, we're in a little bit of a hurry. Follow me."

Walking together, Alice turned to Betty and asked, "What do you know about the DPD?"

"Actually...I've never heard of it," Betty replied, quickening her pace to match her mother's.

"Good. That's how we like it." As they walked, Alice explained for the first time in Betty's life what kind of work she does. The DPD, or Domestic Protection Division, was the first line of defense for any threats entering the United States. "Any threat that appears on our soil is handled by me and my team."

Betty nodded, slightly impressed by her mother's role in it all. She had no idea her job was this critical; she honestly grew up thinking her mom was some paper-pusher in an office somewhere.

Alice proceeded to remind Betty of a couple key rules of the Agency. Polygraphs every year; no cell phones in the building; no dating foreigners.

After a few moments, she finally asked her mom the question that's been nagging her since she had left the Farm. "I'm still a little confused as to why I'm here..."

Alice sighed. "It was actually my boss's request to pull you in, not mine. I didn't want you to come in until you completed your training at the Farm, but as it turns out—" her mother gave her a pointed look, "—you've got the best scores we've seen in years."

Betty was both surprised and flattered. "Really?"

"You scored better than any other woman we've ever had. And better than any _man _in the last decade, —except for one other agent." Betty wondered _who _, but didn't want to interrupt. "Today, we need you for your language skills."

Alice halted them both briefly, placing a hand on Betty's shoulder and looking at her with a small smile. "I want you to know, I _am _proud of you Elizabeth. You've truly...impressed me."

_Wow _.

Her mother _never _complimented her—like, _ever _. Betty recognized that this was probably a difficult thing for her to do, so she looked away and simply nodded _thanks _, not wanting to create any more weird tension.

Alice's expression then turned more stern. "But you have to understand, Elizabeth, that our work here is very important and very dangerous. And for that reason, I cannot show you any bias. If I were to treat you differently than everyone else, there could be consequences for the both of us. Or worse—you could end up on a mission you weren't qualified for, and you could get hurt, or—"

"Mom," Betty interrupted. "I understand."

Alice looked at her with a pained expression. "I can't be your mother in here, Betty. I can only be your boss."

Betty nodded. "I can live with that." _We haven't been mother-and-daughter for a few years, so this shouldn't be any different, _she thought to herself.

Alice regarded her carefully for a few more moments before finally dropping her hand from Betty's shoulder. "Okay, then." She gestured to the glass doors behind her that led to Tech Ops. "It's time for your first mission."

* * *

Betty stood next to Kevin in Tech Ops, watching in amazement as his hands flew over the keyboard. "Color me impressed, Keller," she whispered to him.

He just smirked.

"Images," Alice instructed. Kevin nodded, tapping a few keys, and several pictures of a man loaded onto a big screen in the room. "That man you see there is an ex-FSB agent by the name of Alexander Ordinov."

"Ex?" Betty questioned, taking in the man's appearance. Alexander had long, curly brown hair and several tattoos on his back.

"These satellite images were taken a few years ago when Alexander was in a Siberian prison in Russia. Alex made a deal with the FSB to get out of prison—and in exchange became one of their best top assassins."

"Lovely man," Betty said sarcastically.

"Wanted in over fifteen countries," Kevin chimed in, taking over. "Now he's on American soil and he says he wants to talk."

"'Talk'?"

"He claims he is unhappy with the current regime at the FSB. He is willing to hand over a list of their current targets in exchange for asylum and money."

"Okay…" Betty frowned. "So did you call me in here because I speak Russian?"

"Well, that, and…" Alice looked at her with a sigh. "You could pass as a call girl."

Betty was taken aback by the comment, but didn't protest. She would take any mission at this point.

Alice continued. "You've been assigned as Alex's handler. You'll go to the hotel where we have him, wait for his call, and...bring this."

Kevin handed her a pager and an old phone. "A Blackberry?" Betty asked. _Kinda dated, _she thought. She honestly expected more high tech devices to come out of Langley.

"Ah!" Kevin enthusiastically jumped in to correct her. "But not just _any _blackberry—It's a dedicated two-way encrypted transponder that only _looks _like a Blackberry."

Betty smirked. "Clever. I like it."

"You have one. He has one. Place them within three feet, press the center button, and—" Kevin waves a hand dramatically in the air. "_ Voila _! He gets the bank codes for his payment, you get the intel."

"Okay. Simple. I can do that," Betty said. "Do I need, like...an outfit or something?" she asked awkwardly, glancing down at her clothes. She wore a rather professional ensemble—a pencil skirt and a dark green collared long sleeve.

Alice regarded her outfit briefly before saying, "You should be fine. Hookers in DC dress conservatively. The Louboutins are a nice touch, though."

Kevin made a beloved little _Oomf! _sound under his breath as he eyed her red-soled shoes. "No man on earth can resist a woman in black kitten heels!" Betty couldn't help but giggle.

A knock on the door jam made Betty glance up. Jughead stood in the doorway, now clad in all black, and donning a leather jacket that made him look _very _sexy. "Van's ready," he said to Alice.

Betty involuntarily shivered at the sound of his voice, so she turned her back to him and looked the screen, hoping to hide the inevitable blush that was creeping up on her cheeks. _Cool it, Cooper, _she told herself. _No office romances!_

Kevin snickered from his desk, obviously catching on to her reaction.

"Something funny, Keller?" Jughead asked with a frown.

"Oh, it's nothing," he replied, coughing loudly in a horrible attempt to cover his laughter. "Betty just owes me a beer."

She grit her teeth and glared down him. "I do _not _."

"Okay; I expect you three to be back within a few hours," Alice said, striding towards the door.

"Three?" Betty all but squeaked. _Please don't say it—don't say he's coming..._

"Yes. You, Kevin, and Jughead."

_Thank you, oh-so-much, _she thought sarcastically, looking upwards towards whatever god was working against her.

"Kevin, I expect nothing less than _perfect _surveillance and consistent audio coverage on Betty." Kevin nodded firmly to Alice, who then turned to face Jughead with a stone cold look. "And _you _. I hope I don't have to report any more misbehavior to your father. You understand your new duties?"

Betty watched the scene carefully, wondering what he did to get her mom so worked up. Jughead clenched his jaw tightly, replying with a quiet, "Yes ma'am."

"You drive the surveillance van. And you stay _in _the van, at all times. The only time you may leave is if Betty needs an extraction. Under no circumstances are you to engage Alexander, is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am," Jughead repeated curtly. His face showed no visible anger, but she could see the emotions flare up in his eyes. She wondered if her mom did, too.

* * *

"I hate the van," Jughead muttered, as he drove them through downtown D.C.

"All you crazy agents take the field for granted," Kevin quipped from the backseat. It definitely wasn't an ordinary vehicle. From the outside, it appeared to be a normal white cargo van. But the back was fully set up with multiple computers, cameras, and other sound equipment Kevin would need for surveillance. "Y'all don't realize what you got 'til you've lost it."

"What did you do…?" Betty asked cautiously, looking at Jughead from the driver's seat.

She noticed how his grip tightened on the steering wheel. "It was stupid. I fucked up on a mission, and your mom benched me. Three weeks of van duty."

Betty started to ask what happened on the mission, but decided against it, not wanting to pry. He looked upset enough, so she didn't want to push him. "Sorry," she said sympathetically. Betty reached over to touch his arm in a comforting gesture, but a small jolt of electricity sparked where her skin connected with his, causing her to quickly withdraw her hand. She looked up in surprise and her gaze locked with his, prompting her to bite her lip nervously. His eyes lowered briefly, drawn to the movement, before he returned his attention to the road.

_Did he just glance at my mouth..? _she wondered, replaying the moment in her mind.

That's when Kevin suddenly decided to blurt out, "Wrinkly dicks! Toe fungus! Seeing grandma naked! Moldy pizza! Smelly—"

"KEVIN!" Betty shouted with a cringe, while Jughead yelled, "What the fuck, man?!"

"Sorry!" Kevin said with a smirk. "I just had to get Betty's _undivided _attention_. _ Couldn't do it with all those _thoughts _running through your mind, right Betts?"

Betty, cheeks now pink, turned in her seat to give Kevin a look of pure hatred. "Damn you to hell, Keller."

"Oh, hush—you'll learn to love me," he winked. "Now put these on, you need to unleash your inner hoe."

"My inner hoe, huh?" Betty inspected the eyeliner, shiny gloss, and compact he just handed her. "This isn't exactly her style, Kevin."

"Betty Cooper!" Kevin said gleefully. "Are you telling me there's a secret slutty Cooper in there that I don't know about?"

Betty chuckled into her mirror as she adjusted her eyeliner, drawing a dramatic winged cat-eye and smoking out her bottom lash line. "I admit to _nothing _," she teased, just to rile up Kevin.

It worked; he was all giddy in the backseat.

Moments later, the van turned into an alley. "We're here," Jughead stated, putting it in park.

_Fuck. This is it, _Betty thought, suddenly very nervous. She took a deep breath and released it slowly as she eyed the alley. "Okay."

"Relax, you're gonna be in and out before you know it. And remember—" Kevin tapped the side of his head, reminding her of the mic she had hidden in her ear. "We'll be with you the whole time."

She nodded, and put her hand on the handle to jump out when Kevin stopped her. "Wait—hang on." He reached over her seat and tugged on her hair tie, letting her ponytail loose.

"Hey!" Betty cried out, as her hair fell around her face in waves. "What was wrong with the ponytail?"

"_Trust me _," Kevin replied. "Oh, and pop a couple buttons, sweetheart. Show off the goods." His eyebrows jumped suggestively and she rolled her eyes.

"Jesus," she muttered under her breath, but did as he told her. The last thing she wanted was to fail her first mission because she didn't look _slutty _enough.

So Betty unbuttoned her shirt from her collarbone down to her sternum, exposing the top of a black lacy bra. "Better?"

Kevin clapped cheekily. "Ooh, I love it! You look like the classiest call girl that ever hit D.C. Absolutely _irresistible _—right, Jughead?"

Another shiver crawled up her body as she watched him slowly rake his eyes up and down her figure, not saying a word. When Jughead's eyes finally returned to hers, he simply said, "Don't have a drink with him. Don't sleep with him."

Betty cringed. _Sleep with a wanted Russian assassin? _ She was offended by the accusation. "You think _I'd _sleep with him?"

"I'd think he'd sleep with _you _," Jughead replied coolly, eyes darkening slightly as they travelled over her body a second time. She felt like she was on fire under his gaze, her body beginning to react in a billion different ways.

Betty jumped out of that van before she jumped Jughead's bones, Kevin be damned.

* * *

"Why a _call girl? _" Betty protested quietly under her breath as she strode confidently into the hotel. Several people were already glancing in her way, eyes following her wherever she went. "Why not, like, a maid? Or hotel manager?"

_"We're trying to make it look like he came to the US to drink and party, not sell secrets," _she heard Kevin chuckle in her ear. _"Now hush up, you'll look suspicious talking to yourself. You should be getting a page from Alexander soon." _

Betty sat in the lounge area, grabbing a magazine and casually flipping through it. She placed her pager in her lap, hidden by the pages.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Betty glanced up in surprise. A rather handsome young man sat across from her, clad in a classy beige suit and a blue shirt that matched his eyes. "Maybe a coffee? Or a wine?" he prompted. He had some kind of Spanish accent—but it sounded strange.

"_ Oof, that accent! _" Kevin said in her ear. _"Indulge him, honey—I wanna hear more of that yummy voice."_

_"Will you stop encouraging her?" _she heard Jughead snap back.

Betty stifled a laugh at their exchange. "It's barely after noon," she replied to the man, glancing at her watch.

The man just smirked. "Something stronger, then?"

Betty plastered a fake grin on her face, shaking her head shyly. "I'm good."

The man leaned back in his seat, stroking the stubble on his chin as he regarded her with interest. "Perhaps later, then. Maybe a nice cava."

"Spanish wine?" she quipped. "Are you from Spain?"

"Sí."

"Valencia?"

"Madrid."

_Liar _, she quickly decided. She had been to Madrid; she was familiar with their accents, and his sounded off.

Betty was ready to call the man on his bluff when her pager buzzed in her lap. _ Room 1315 _, it read.

"Unfortunately, I can't get a drink with you," she said, placing her magazine off to the side.

"Ah...your mother told you to stay away from foreign men, huh?" He asked with a smirk.

"Something like that," she laughed, recalling how her mom had _literally _just explained the 'No dating foreigners' rule only hours earlier.

* * *

The elevator dinged as Betty stepped onto the top floor.

_"There are no cameras inside the hotel rooms, so I won't have a visual on you once you go inside, okay Betty?"_

"Yeah, got it," Betty replied, feeling confident. This was a simple mission; she'd been through harder tasks on the Farm.

Room 1315, as it turns out, was a penthouse suite. She knocked on the double doors, adjusting her blouse as she waited. _ No answer. _Betty knocked again, this time calling out, "Alexander?"

_"Check the door," _Jughead said in her ear.

She did; it was unlocked. Betty stepped in cautiously and shut the door behind her, breathing out a quiet "_ Fuck _" as she surveyed the state of the room.

_"What's wrong?" _Kevin asked.

The living room was trashed—clothes strewn over the couch, and take out boxes scattered on the coffee table. Empty glasses and bottles of various alcohols littered the bar top.

"Hello?" Betty called louder as she walked slowly into the living room. "_ Zdravstvuyte? _" she tried again, saying hello in Russian.

Her eyes zeroed in on an arm, limply sticking out from underneath a pile of clothes on the couch. "Alex?" Betty panicked, worried now that maybe he had been attacked. "_ Alexander! _" she shouted.

The limb suddenly flailed and the heap of clothes shifted onto the floor, revealing a very drunk (but very much alive) Alexander Ordinov. Betty let out an annoyed sigh of relief. At least he wasn't dead.

Alexander groaned and blinked hard, eyes adjusting to the light before he spotted her. He let out a sound of approval as he looked her up and down. "Whoa..._ zdravstvuyte," _he drawled out, a stupid grin plastered on his face.

Betty placed a hand on her hip and looked down at him. This man was _supremely _wasted. "I'm here for the transfer, Alex," she said in Russian. "Do you have your Blackberry?"

"English is fine," Alex said. "I'm in your country now, _baby _." He laughed wildly, wiggling his eyebrows as he stared shamelessly at her lace-covered breasts that popped out of her shirt.

Betty sighed, switching languages. "Do you have your Blackberry, Alex?" she asked again.

He smirked and began to get up off the sofa—but in doing so, his robe fell open, exposing his dick in rock-hard glory.

"Uh—" Betty quickly averted her eyes and cleared her throat. "Can you, uh—your robe. You're about to lose your robe…" she stuttered.

"Wouldn't want that," Alex replied sarcastically, retying his robe shut. He shot her a wink and waved his hand. "Come on, baby."

_"Morning wood?" _Kevin asked.

"God," was all she huffed back in return, prompting a cackle from Kevin.

She followed Alex into the bedroom, seeing him stop by a table in front of the window. He was waving his Blackberry in his hand. "Shall we do the, uh, _hot-sync? _" he asked suggestively.

Betty fought an eye roll, placing her Blackberry on the table next to his. "I thought you'd never ask."

They both placed a finger on the center button. "Ready?" he asked. "Three… two… one… beeeeeeep!" Alexander laughed like a child.

Betty sighed contently, seeing both screens turn green with the words "Transaction complete."

Alexander looked at her with a smug smile and joked, "Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

She started to laugh, but suddenly something flew threw the window with a loud _CRASH! _ Betty yelped in surprise and blinked rapidly as something warm and wet splashed up on her face. " _What the— _"

She looked up in time to see Alexander fall over, blood staining his white robe, spreading fast across his chest. Too shocked to move, Betty stupidly glanced back at the window, spotting the small round hole that had broken through the glass.

_He was shot._

_"Betty!" _ She registered Kevin's voice in her ear, prompting her to unfreeze. Betty quickly dived to the floor, just in time to dodge a second and third bullet that flew through the window. A second later, and she would've been dead.

Then, the room began to explode with bullets—glass raining down around her. It was loud—_so_ _loud—_and the air quickly started to get dusty from the debris flying everywhere.

_"Betty, get out of there!" _Kevin shouted.

"Trying!" Betty shouted back, her fight-or-flight response finally kicking in.

She was able to make it to the doorway of the bedroom by hugging the wall and keeping close to the ground—but she stopped, looking between the living room window, and her exit. _How the hell was she supposed to get to the door without exposing herself?_

_Think. Think. Think _. Betty racked her brain for a solution, desperately trying to remember her evacuation training.

Then, her eyes landed on the bar. It was between her and the door; she could use it to shield her from the bullets.

The rapid fire suddenly ceased. _ He's reloading his weapon, _Betty realized, seeing her opportunity. She took off her heels and sprinted out from the doorway, tucking herself behind the bar just as the shots started up again.

She shrieked as a bullet blasted through the wood, mere inches from her ear.

_This bar is weak—made of wood. She's dead if she doesn't move quick _.

She took a chance—sprinting this time for the sofas—and thankfully made it, flattening herself to the floor. A few bullets cut through the backs of the sofas, before all shots were suddenly directed upwards.

Breathing hard, Betty looked up at the ceiling, confused—but at the sound of the chandelier's creaking metal, her eyes widened in realization.

She glanced at the front door, then back to the chandelier that was under siege, directly above her. She had no choice.

At the sound of groaning metal, she made a fast break for the door—reaching it just as the chandelier crashed into her previous spot.

Betty barreled out blindly into the hallway, slamming into someone hard.

She shrieked when they grabbed her wrists from behind, and her defensive training instinctively kicked in. Forcing their locked arms above her head, she ducked down, twisting her body 180 underneath. Then she stood abruptly, yanking down with enough force to break their hold on her wrists. She threw a hard punch—successfully striking her opponent in the gut and eliciting a _"fuck!" _—and then attempted to throw an elbow. But they blocked it, gripping her forearm and her other fist in their hands.

"Betty—_ Betty stop! _"

She recognized the voice instantly and stilled, finally looking up through her hair to see Jughead. "Oh," Betty breathed. She tried to relax, but her chest heaved painfully as she tried to catch her breath.

"Betty. Look at me."

She couldn't; she wanted to cry. It was so hard to breathe, and her head was still spinning from the chaos in the room. Her heart was still racing with adrenaline.

"Hey—" Jughead released his grip on her and placed both hands on either side of her face, forcing her to look up at him. "Look at me," he demanded. She did. "You're okay. You're safe."

_Safe?_

She swallowed hard and glanced nervously at the door to Alexander's room, reminding herself of the fact that she almost died—several times.

Jughead was quick to catch on, and shocked her by pulling her in for a tight hug, tucking her under his chin so he blocked the room from her sight. "You're safe. You made it. I got you."

Betty squeezed her eyes shut and took several deep breaths in, trying to rein in her fear. She tried to distract herself by focusing on Jughead's words, inhaling deeply and catching subtle hints of his cologne. _ She made it. She was safe. She was with Jughead._

_Jughead…_

She suddenly brought her hand up, slapping him hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!" he yelped. "What was that for?"

"You came out of nowhere and scared the _shit _out of me!" she yelled into his chest, her voice muffled by his shirt. A deep rumble traveled through his chest as he chuckled. "That's not funny," Betty defended weakly.

"It's a little funny."

"You're a jackass."

"You hit hard."

"Sorry," she mumbled, not really meaning it.

Jughead chuckled again. She didn't realize that she had calmed down until he leaned back to look down at her. He pushed her hair aside, placing a hand under her chin to tilt her face up towards him. Her heart started to race again, this time for different reasons. "Are you hurt?" he asked seriously, searching her face.

"_ Guys, move it—I hear sirens. The police are on the way _. _Take the fire exit, now."_

Jughead cursed under his breath and grabbed her hand, practically dragging her down the hallway and into the nearest stairway.

They entered the alley in time to see the van's back doors wide open. Kevin was already jumping into the driver's seat. "Into the back—" he commanded. "Let's go!"

They didn't speak for several blocks, until the sirens died away and Kevin could drive at a normal speed.

"You didn't answer my question," Jughead finally asked quietly. They were seated next to each other on the floor of the van. "Are you hurt?"

Betty shook her head mutely. He gave her a look of disbelief, reaching up with his hand to slowly run a thumb across her cheek. Betty closed her eyes, subconsciously leaning into his palm. After the violence she just witnessed, she relished the gentle touch. Maybe she imagined it, but it felt like his hand lingered a few moments longer than necessary. He eventually pulled away to show her the blood that coated his finger.

"His blood. Not mine," Betty said, and he nodded. She took a deep breath, disappointing herself when it came out so shaky. The blood was still pounding in her head, and her ears rang from all the gunshots; she was starting to feel dizzy.

"Close your eyes," Jughead said, keeping his voice quiet. She obeyed, finding the sound of his voice to be soothing. "Focus on your breathing. Relax." Betty felt him reach over her lap to gently grasp her wrist. She opened her eyes slowly, watching him touch his neck with his other hand; he was checking her pulse. "Too high, Betty," he told her. "_Breathe_."

She closed her eyes again, taking in several more deep breaths. About a minute later, he let her go, and Betty reopened her eyes. "You good?" Jughead asked, watching her closely.

She began to nod, but then she stopped herself. "You know what, _no _—I'm not good. I almost _died_ in there! I thought you guys said this was a simple mission?"

"It _is _a simple mission!" Kevin defended from the driver's seat.

"How on earth was any of that _simple _?" Betty shot back.

"Tell us what happened," Jughead interrupted.

"One second we were doing the hot-sync, and then the next—Alex got sniped and the room was _exploding!" _ She shook her head and scoffed, bitter. "You know, they teach you all this shit at the Farm—asset entanglement, deception, evasion techniques—trying to make everything sound so clinical and definitive. But it's not_. _It's _messy _."

"It _is _messy," Jughead agreed. "And it's dangerous. But we do it, because we do a good job at it."

"A good job?" Betty looked at him in confusion. "Alexander is _dead _."

"Even better for us," Kevin said from the front seat. "The CIA can save some money, and we still get the intel."

_The intel._

Betty's eyes widened in horror, realizing her huge mistake. She buried her face in her hands, muttering "Oh my god" over and over.

"Betty?" Kevin called.

"_ I forgot the Blackberry!" _she blurted.

"What do you mean you forgot the Blackberry?!"

"I didn't grab it, in the confusion, I—Kevin, you have to turn around!"

"Betty!" Kevin cried. "I can't turn around now, it's too late."

"The place will be swarming with cops and the FBI will be on the scene," Jughead added. "We won't have jurisdiction anymore."

Betty shook her head vigorously. "No, you guys don't understand. I _can't _go back to my mom empty-handed."

"Betty, honey, like you said—you almost died," Kevin reasoned. "Alice can work out a deal with the feds for the phone."

"No, no, no—Alice—my mom won't be okay with that," Betty said in a panic. The idea of disappointing her mother triggered her badly. "Kevin, you _have _to turn around. I—I can go back and get it!"

"_No way." _ Kevin and Jughead said together.

"Oh, come on!" Betty exclaimed in frustration, looking between the two of them. "All I have to do is get back in the room before they bag the evidence. If we turn around now, we can make it back in before it's too late!"

Kevin glanced in the rearview mirror at Jughead, who gave him a hard look and shook his head slowly. He then looked back at Betty, who returned it with a pleading expression. Finally, Kevin rolled his eyes, cursed angrily, and made a sudden U-turn. "You're crazy, Betty," he said, but drove back towards the hotel anyway.

Betty wanted to cheer and cry at the same time.

* * *

"You _are _crazy, Cooper."

"Shut up," Betty hissed to Jughead as they reached the elevator. They stepped inside and pushed the button for the thirteenth floor. "You're not even supposed to be out of the van, remember?"

"And you were supposed to grab the device, remember?" he shot back.

She glared at him for the low blow, but let it slide. "This is my mistake, I can fix it by myself. I don't need you to fix it for me."

"I'm not fixing anything!"

"Yes you are! There is no other reason for you to be coming with me!"

"God, you're as stubborn as your mother," Jughead muttered, causing her to whirl on him furiously.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Jughead ran a hand through his hair, now irked, but clearly trying to restrain himself. "Nothing, just forget it."

"_No _," Betty replied, slamming her fist on the emergency stop button. The elevator grinded to a halt at level four. "Explain," she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring up at him.

"There's nothing to explain!" Jughead said, voice starting to rise. "Just let me go with you, okay?"

"No! Not okay!"

"_Betty," _he said, clenching his teeth. "I'm coming with you, and that's _final _."

She shook her head stubbornly. "_ No— _I'm telling you, I don't need your help in there!"

"It's not about the damn device!"

"Then what is it?" Betty shouted. "What is your problem?"

"_ Goddammit Betty— _" Jughead angrily slammed his hand on the wall next to Betty and she jumped, stepping back a foot. He was shouting now. "You are making it _so _hard to protect you, do you know that?"

"I don't need you to protect me!"

"That's my job!" he blurted angrily.

_Job? _ Betty shook her head vehemently. "What the hell does that even mean, Jughead?!"

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Okay, fine. Act like you don't know."

"I don't!" Betty cried, letting out an insanely frustrated huff. "God, you know, for someone _so_ _hot _you are _so _thick-headed!"

If he caught what she said, he didn't show any signs of it. Instead, his eyebrows shot up in surprise and he took a dangerously close step forward. "_ I'm _thick-headed?!"

"Yes—_ you! _" Betty jabbed him hard in the chest with her finger. "You are so...so…" She was so pissed off, her vocabulary was failing her.

"What?" he challenged, taking another step closer.

"Frustrating!" Betty finally shouted, jabbing him again. "And _domineering _!" She moved to jab him a third time, but he slapped her hand away, giving her a dark look. "And you just—you make me so...so—"

"Hot?" he suggested cockily, smirking now as he repeated her earlier words back to her.

Betty flushed and let out an indignant screech, furiously smacking him in the chest with two fists. "You! Are so! _Infuriating! God!" _she shouted, hitting him harder with every word. She tried to shove him away, but he caught both her fists in one of his hands. He placed the other on the elevator wall, effectively trapping her in a corner.

"_ Betty," _Jughead threatened lowly, but she was too busy yelling to hear him.

"Let go!" she shouted, following it up by calling him a _dirty bastard _in every language she knew. Betty was onto her sixth language when he abruptly released her hands, dropping his own onto her waist and slamming her roughly into the wall. She yelped in surprise, looking up at him angrily, when he suddenly swooped down and captured her lips in an unexpected kiss.

She stilled, caught completely off guard. But when he hastily moved his lips against hers, she unclenched her fists and let them drop to his chest. A soft moan escaped her unintentionally and she quickly kissed him back, moving a hand over his shoulder and up the back of his neck.

Effectively turned on—yet still reeling from her anger—Betty threaded her fingers into his hair and tugged harder than necessary on a good chunk. _Asshole,_ she thought. It prompted a deep growl from Jughead, who bit her bottom lip and tugged in response, causing her to moan a little loader into his mouth. She felt his fingers dig deeper into her hips as he pressed her more firmly into the wall.

Betty was heated—in a multitude of ways. _How could she be so impossibly turned on and insanely frustrated at the same time?! _ She was so mad; she didn't _need _his help, didn't _need _anyone fixing her mistakes.

But good lord, she _needed _him to kiss her harder. She clenched a hand in his shirt, yanking him closer in a powerful motion. When she ran her nails across his scalp with her other hand, he groaned into her mouth. She took advantage of this sweet opportunity to slip her tongue between his lips, sweeping her tongue sensually across his.

One of Jughead's hands travelled north from her hips to the small of her back, pulling her body flush against his. She gasped in surprise; he was _hard— _in many, many places.

They were an angry, breathy, _needy _mess.

"Betty," he warned with a growl, breaking their kiss and nipping at her lip furiously. "You need to stop this before I take this further."

"Me?" she breathed, nipping him right back. "_You're _the one who started this."

"Only because you wouldn't stop _yelling," _he said with several harsh, quick kisses.

"What?!" Betty shrieked, pulling away and glaring at him.

"This was the only way to shut you up! Besides," he looked down at her smugly. "I didn't see you complaining."

"I don't see _you _complaining, either," Betty fired back, daringly rolling her hips over his growing hard-on.

Jughead clenched his teeth, releasing his hold on her hips so he could step back.

They stared at each other heatedly for several quiet moments, both of them attempting to slow their breathing and _calm the fuck down _.

"Fix your blouse," he eventually said, adjusting his leather jacket and reaching over to restart the elevator.

"Fix your _pants _," she replied hotly, eyes flickering down to the bulge that was still very prominent. He growled in reply, looking away from her.

They adjusted the rest of their clothes wordlessly, watching in silence as the elevator moved up.

_Seven...Eight...Nine…Goddamn, this elevator is slow. _Betty thought in irritation.

"You know six languages?"

"What?" Betty asked, taken aback by his random question.

"You got pretty busy calling me a _dirty bastard _—in six languages. I counted."

Betty just sighed and said nothing, watching the elevator's floor count. _Ten...Eleven...Twelve…_

"Seven," she finally said, after not responding for several seconds.

"What?"

"I speak seven languages," she corrected.

_Thirteen….Finally. _The elevator dinged and they walked out.

"You only used six," Jughead said, confused.

"I know," Betty replied with an eye roll. " _You didn't let me finish."_

* * *

**Drop me any comments, questions, concerns, or requests below! :) Thanks for all the support so far!**

**xoxo - A**


	4. Elevators, Part 2

**Wow y'all are so great. I'm just happy so many of you are enjoying the story so far!**

**I'm rewinding just a tad, to include some of Kevin and Jughead's point of views!**

**Thanks for your patience and all your ENTHUSIASM! Enjoy this insight into Jughead's mind:**

* * *

Jughead was used to being number one around the office, Langley's best. The alpha dog.

He was not used to being benched from the field—and he was certainly not used to being told some newbie agent was expected to become the new number one.

Prior to (literally) running into Betty for the first time, he was inside Alice's office, getting his head chewed off by the beast herself.

" You broke protocol, Jughead—"

"Fuck protocol! My asset was about to die in there!"

Kevin watched quietly from the side of the room as Alice and Jughead engaged in a heated discussion about his last mission.

"I did what I had to do to save a life," Jughead continued.

"And you blew your asset's cover in the process " Alice snapped back. "Not only did you expose your asset, but you also failed your mission. We didn't get the intel, and now we have nothing ." Seething, she slapped a rather thin case folder on her desk. "As good as you are, Jughead, you need to learn discipline. Restraint."

Jughead didn't speak—only set his jaw in silent anger. It wasn't the first time he was told this.

Alice let out a frustrated sigh. "Normally, I would suspend you from the field indefinitely. But significant events are happening upstairs that require all hands on deck." She gave him a glaring look. "So here's what's going to happen: I'm benching you...for three weeks. Van duty."

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath. "You're sticking me in that damn box?"

"Well...if you'd like to stay here in the office and observe from tech ops, you're more than welcome," Alice suggested with mild amusement. He glared, knowing full well that she knew he would rather be out in the field more than anything else.

He locked eyes with Kevin, who gave him an apologetic half-smile. "Hey, welcome to my world…"

"Now as you've probably heard, my daughter is joining the ranks," Alice continued, looking at both boys with a calculated expression. "I need my two best agents to help her get acclimated, fast."

"With all do respect, ma'am," Jughead said through clenched teeth, "I'm not at my 'best' in the van."

Alice met his gaze firmly. "You're smart, Jughead. I'm sure you'll adapt."

"By babysitting your daughter?" he replied skeptically.

"You will not be 'babysitting' her." Alice sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, irritated. "She's a grown woman, Jughead, and the best trainee we've had in years. Better than you, actually."

Jughead was taken aback, as was Kevin. "What?" they both exclaimed. Everyone knew Jughead held that title.

Alice waved a hand in dismissal. "That's besides the point. Changes are coming to the Agency along with Betty's arrival, and I need her to be at her very best for certain plans to take action."

Why is she being so cryptic... Jughead thought. "What's so special about Betty?" he asked suspiciously, just as Kevin asked, "What plans?"

"That information would require higher clearance than both of you combined," Alice replied coolly, not specifying whom she was answering. She then turned to Kevin, dismissing him to go find Betty. "She should be finishing up her polygraph by now. Bring Betty to my office so we can prep her for the Ordinov case."

Kevin glanced worriedly at Jughead, who was silently fuming. Jughead was originally assigned to run point on the Ordinov case. Now Alice was giving it to her daughter?

As soon as Kevin had left, Jughead snapped. "The Ordinov case? That was mine —and now you're just gonna give it to some new recruit?" He ignored her motion to sit and remained standing, crossing his arms and staring Alice down angrily.

"Betty is a very... special recruit, Jughead. We need her for a very sensitive case."

I've had it with the cryptically-vague bullshit, he thought sourly. " What case?" he demanded.

"Like I said, that's highly classified—so quit while you're ahead." She motioned to the seat across from her desk. "If you'd like to sit, I'm prepared to make you a deal that will fast-track your suspension."

Jughead was still livid, but obeyed and wordlessly sat down across from Alice. He would do anything to end this ridiculous punishment

"I'm giving you a shot at redemption, Jughead. The deal is simple: Ensure Betty is safe, and I will speed up your suspension."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"What's the catch?"

"There's no 'catch', Jughead. I need you to show me that you can protect her, and work with her...from the van."

Jughead sighed. That stupid van… "What is this, a test?"

"You can call it that, if you want." Alice leaned back in her seat and regarded Jughead thoughtfully. "You are our best agent, Jughead...in the field. I need you to prove to me that you are also the best when you're not in the field."

He already knew he was the best—why did he have to prove himself?

Alice continued before he had a chance to argue with her. "You've only had two significant losses in your entire career as an agent, Jughead. This last mission—losing the intel? That was number two. Do I need to remind you about number one?"

Jughead grimaced and shook his head curtly. He knew exactly which mission she was talking about—it was his first one, ever. He had lost intel that time, too...but he was extra sloppy. His asset was shot to death.

It was why he fought so damn hard this time to save his asset...though he didn't foresee being suspended because of it.

At the shake of his head, Alice nodded. "Then you know why I'm doing this. Mistakes like these are too risky in our line of work—I need to know you are capable of following orders."

"I am," he insisted. "But benching me—"

"—is your punishment for breaking protocol, Jughead." Alice said sternly.

"And it's also preventing me from protecting your daughter," he stated, anger rising again. "Do you realize how unnecessarily difficult you are making my job?"

"I thought you were the best, Jughead. Are you saying you can't do it?" Alice suggested with a smirk. She was questioning his capabilities, and Jughead wasn't in the mood for it.

"All I'm saying," Jughead snapped, "Is that there wouldn't be a single scratch on her head if I was actually out in the field with her."

"And I'm still benching you for your own good, Jughead, so stop trying to change my mind. Like I said before, you're smart—so adapt, and get the job done. Prove to me that you're actually the best."

* * *

Jughead had stormed out of her office in an angry blur, but Alice Cooper remained seated at her desk, unaffected by his temper. His words rang clearly in Alice's head:

"There wouldn't be a single scratch on her head if I was actually out in the field with her."

Those were the exact words she needed to hear from Jughead. Confirmation—that not only would he protect her, but that they would undoubtedly make a successful team.

A small smile graced her lips as she began to feel hopeful. Maybe FP was right. Maybe they would be suitable partners.

And maybe, just maybe, Betty really was the missing piece they needed to draw him out from the shadows...

* * *

Did Kevin know exactly what he was doing when he made that bet with Betty? Absolutely!

From the moment he met her, a plan began to form in his meddlesome little brain.

Sure, she claimed to be "unimpressed" by the men she saw—pulling the "no office romances" card, and blah blah blah. All nonsense, really, because he knew she hadn't met him, yet.

Kevin had known Jughead for awhile now, and what he found most odd was how he never kept a girl around for longer than a day—at least to his knowledge. For someone who was as popular with the girls as James Bond, he'd have thought someone would've been able to latch onto him.

Enter Betty.

In the short walk from polygraph to the DPD, her bombshell-beauty had drawn the attention of several men in the building. Betty, of course, was oblivious to it all—but Kevin took notice, catching their long stares, hushed whispers, and comedic jaw drops. It was quite amusing to watch his fellow male companions lose their shit over a woman.

Being the drama-loving mastermind that he was, Kevin took advantage of an opportunity he knew was inevitable. One of them would undoubtedly attract the other—he just had to play this to his advantage.

And to Kevin, that meant not only making a bet with Betty...but making the same bet with Jughead, too.

"Soooo, Jughead…" Kevin sang, as soon as Betty had jumped out of the surveillance van.

Jughead rolled his eyes at Kevin's sing-songy voice, climbing into the back of the van and settling beside him in front of the surveillance monitors.

"Betty looked good, didn't she?"

"I already said she did," he replied coolly, eyeing the street cameras. He watched Betty's surroundings closely as she headed to the hotel.

"But you probably think she looked really good, didn't you?" Kevin pressed, smirk on his face.

Jughead frowned, glancing up at Kevin suspiciously. "What do you want, Keller?"

"I want you to admit you're attracted to her! You are, aren't you?"

Jughead scoffed, returning his attention to the cameras. Betty was approaching the front entrance to the building now. "Of course she's attractive. I know it, you know it—even a blind man would know she's attractive."

"But that's not my question!" Kevin laughed as he watched Jughead grow increasingly more annoyed at his pestering.

"What is your question...?" he asked, enunciating through clenched teeth. Jughead never lost his cool over a beautiful girl. Normally, he would remain pretty calm, with a hint of smugness—either because he was already sleeping with said beautiful girl, or had a plan to charm her. But Betty was prompting a multitude of foreign reactions from Jughead, and unfortunately for him, Kevin was thriving off of it.

"Well, it's not really a question, but more like a bet." Kevin's smirk grew wider. "A bet, that by the end of the week, you'll be falling head-over-heels for our lovely Betty Cooper."

Jughead just looked at him, eyebrows slowly rising in shock.

"Don't worry, the mics aren't on yet. Betty can't hear us." Kevin winked and nudged his elbow. "Come on! You can tell me. You're already falling for her, aren't 'cha?"

Jughead gave a dry laugh. "You're delusional. I can't believe you think that—"

"Why a call girl?" Betty's voice on the intercom interrupted Jughead. They noted her walking through the lobby of the hotel. " Why not, like, a maid? Or a hotel manager?"

Kevin held a finger up to his lips in a 'shh' motion, flipping a switch to briefly activate their comms. "We're trying to make it look like he came to the US to drink and party, not sell secrets," Kevin replied to Betty with a light chuckle. "Now hush up, you'll look suspicious talking to yourself. You should be getting a page from Alexander soon." He re-muted their mics, turning back to Jughead with a cocky eyebrow raised in disbelief. "So you're telling me you have no plans to sleep with her?"

"Of course not," Jughead said irritatedly, "she's our boss's daughter ."

"Oh please, don't give me that excuse. I saw the way you looked at her when you literally ran into her today. Being 'Alice Smith's daughter'—" Kevin rolled his eyes, saying this with airquotes," —would so not stop you from trying to fu—"

"Okay," Jughead interrupted, throwing his hands up in a desperate attempt to end this conversation. "You know what? I'll take your damn bet. Only because you won't shut up, and also because you're gonna lose. Nothing is ever going to happen," he stressed. .

"Wonderful!" Kevin cried gleefully. He stuck a hand out. "I expect you to be crushing on Betty by the end of the week. Loser buys beers at Pop's."

Jughead scoffed, shaking Kevin's hand. "Your loss, Keller. I don't do 'crushes'. And I'm telling you, I'm not interested in Betty."

Liar! Kevin thought, bursting aloud in laughter. "Man, on what planet would you ever reject a woman like that?!"

"It's just not like that, okay?" Jughead said with a firm shake of his head. "You don't understand—"

"What is there to understand?"

"It's Alice . She—"

"Oh, please, for the love of God, stop using her as an excuse—"

"It's not an excuse!" Jughead exclaimed, blurting, "Alice told me she'd lift my suspension early if I can prove that I can work with Betty and keep her safe, okay?"

Kevin finally shut up, looking at him in shock. "She told you what?"

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Jughead's eyes flew to the surveillance monitors. He clicked a few buttons and the lobby screen expanded. A young man with dark wavy hair was seated across from Betty, eyeing her with very keen interest. "Who the hell is that?"

"Who the hell cares? Tell me what Alice told you!"

"Drop it, Keller," Jughead hissed, watching the strange man intently as he recalled Alice's words: 'Betty is a very special recruit, Jughead.'

He wondered, what was so special about this girl?

"Fine," Kevin finally huffed, "I'll stop...for now." He turned back on their mics, indicating that their conversation was (temporarily) over.

"Maybe a coffee? Or a wine?" the stranger said to Betty.

"Oof, that accent!" Kevin squealed. "Indulge him, honey—I wanna hear more of that yummy voice."

"Will you stop encouraging her?" Jughead snapped. Kevin shrugged innocently, as if he didn't know what he was doing. Annoyed, Jughead reached over to mute their mics. "I literally just told you I have been assigned to protect Betty. Asking her to engage with an irrelevant—and not to mentionforeign —man is not helping me keep her safe."

The sound of elevator dings caught their attention. Betty had finished speaking with the strange foreigner and was heading up to meet Ordinov. Jughead let out a sigh in irritation. "Look, can we just focus on Betty?"

Kevin looked him over before agreeing reluctantly. "Alright, fine."

Betty stepped off the elevators, and Kevin turned their mics on to speak to her. "There are no cameras inside the hotel rooms, so I won't have a visual on you once you go inside, okay Betty?"

"Yeah, got it. "

* * *

If she was nervous, Jughead couldn't tell. She hid it well—that is, until she hissed a low " Fuck" under her breath.

"What's wrong?" Kevin asked, frowning in concern, but Betty didn't answer. After a long, uneasy moment of silence, Jughead quickly began to prepare himself for exit, checking his gun to make sure it was loaded. He knew he was ordered to stay in the van, but Alice did say he could leave if Betty needed an extraction...

He made a motion to stand, but Kevin halted him—grabbing him by the arm and forcefully seating him back down with a stern look, mouthingWait.

"Hello?" They heard Betty finally ask. "Zdravstvuyte?" Now she sounded very nervous. Jughead hated that; agents who were nervous were more likely to mess up. With his ass on the line, he really couldn't afford that.

They didn't dare say anything, not wanting to distract her.

She suddenly panicked, shouting, " Alex? Alexander!"

A soft thud prompted Jughead to stand immediately, now thoroughly convinced something was wrong. But Kevin was quick to stand, physically blocking his exit. He looked at him pointedly and barely whispered "Van duty," as if to remind him of where he's supposed to be. Jughead glared at him darkly, fighting a mental battle with himself. He had been given two agendas from Alice; one, to stay in the van—and two, to protect Betty. As he predicted, they were conflicting with each other.

"Whoaaa…"

A rugged new voice sounded on their comms, and Kevin and Jughead snapped their attention back to the surveillance screens. Kevin turned it up.

"... zdravstvusyte." 'Hello', the man they guessed was Alexander, drawled out with a long, low chuckle.

Betty gave a sound of annoyance, fluidly speaking in Russian. "I'm here for the transfer, Alex. Do you have the blackberry?"

Jughead was impressed. Her Russian was really good.

"English is fine. I'm in your country now, bay-beee," Alexander said, giving a horrendously suggestive cackle.

"Do you have your blackberry, Alex?" Betty repeated in English.

Good girl , Jughead thought. Keep him focused on the mission.

There was some shuffling and then Betty gave a gasp. " Uh—can you, uh—your robe. You're about to lose your robe… " she stuttered.

Jughead tensed slightly, hoping she recalled his earlier warning. I think he'd sleep with you, he had said to her. She was hot, and Ordinov wasn't exactly respectful of women.

Kevin, however, was silently laughing. He glared at him, but Kevin just covered his mouth and gestured to the comms helplessly.

"Wouldn't want that," was Alexander's sarcastic reply. "Come on, baby."

"Morning wood?" Kevin finally asked Betty.

"God ," was her quiet huff in return, prompting a hard laugh from Kevin. Jughead nudged him with a stern look. He didn't want him distracting Betty; Betty had to stay focused.

"Shall we do the, uh, hot-sync?" Alexander asked suggestively. Jughead rolled his eyes, praying this would be over soon.

"I thought you'd never ask."

"Ready? Three… two… one… beeeeeeep!" Alexander laughed. " Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

Jughead tilted his head back and let out a giant sigh of relief. She did it. It's over . Not only was Betty safe, but they completed their mission. And, it went pretty smoothly… Maybe Alice would lift my suspension immediately? he thought hopefully.

A shockingly loud crash jolted Jughead from his thoughts. He locked eyes with Kevin, both of them recognizing that sound instantly as broken glass.

"What the—"

"Betty?" Jughead asked. Panic started to rise within him when she didn't answer. "Betty, what happened?"

"Betty!" Kevin said louder.

The sound of more glass exploding answered all their questions. Kevin immediately turned to Jughead. "Get her out of there!" he shouted. "Now!"

He didn't need to be told twice.

This can't be happening, Jughead thought dreadfully. It was going so well…

A feeling of déjà vu crept up on him before he suddenly remembered why. Not again…

He sprinted fast down the alley, wildly turning the corner to the hotel. He had to be fast enough.

He busted through the lobby doors, carelessly shoving people out the way and shouting "Move!"

"Betty, get out of there!" he heard Kevin say in his ear.

"Trying!"

Jughead reached the stairwell, taking two and three at a time. Several loud explosions sounded on his comms, followed by a terrifying shriek that came from Betty. Faster, dammit!

The gunshots had silenced, but so had Betty—she hasn't said a word. Please don't be dead, he thought grimly.

He finally reached the thirteenth floor, entering the hallway as the gunshots resumed. They grew significantly louder as he neared the source.

"Come on, come on, come on," Jughead muttered, searching desperately for the right room number.

He leapt forward once he found the right door, only to crash into Betty as she came flying out. She slammed into him so hard, it took his breath away.

Jughead reached around to grab her wrists, meaning to steady her—but it freaked her out instead; she screamed loudly, starting to lash out. With lightning speed he couldn't believe, she twisted her body underneath him and broke free of his hold. She threw a fast, precise punch—one he didn't see coming—that struck him in his gut.

"Fuck ," he coughed out, wondering why she continued to fight him. "Betty—"

She wasn't hearing him. She swung an elbow next, but this time he was prepared. He barely blocked it, just inches before it reached his face, and grabbed her by both arms. "Betty, stop!" he shouted, shaking her firmly.

Betty froze instantly, and peaked up at him through her hair. "Oh ," she said softly. The expression on her face was a mix of shock and fear. But it was that soft "oh " and the scared look on her face that triggered a dreadful memory: his first mission.

The door to his asset's place had already been busted open, locks proving to be useless. His heart sank when he stepped inside. "No…"

There she was, leaning against the wall by her living room window, one bullet lodged deep in her chest.

He called out her name in horror, running to her side. She looked at him with wide, shocked eyes. "Oh…" she breathed out softly, looking down at the bright red blood blooming on her chest.

"What happened!? How did this happen!?" he yelled, voice shaky and panicked.

It was a simple first mission. Meet with his asset, retrieve the new intel, and go home. Simple.

But now…

She mumbled something, but her voice was already so weak. He could barely hear her. "What?"

"You…" She stared up at him with teary eyes, betrayal written all over her face. "You said you'd keep me safe," she whispered, voice breaking.

His heart felt heavy with guilt, so heavy. "I—"

"S'posed to protect me…"

"No, no...I was coming! I was on my way to you, I swear! I was almost here, but I...I'm so sorry, I—" Jughead choked on his words. He didn't know what to say.

He wasn't fast enough; he had failed her.

"Why didn't you protect me? Why—"

She cut herself off, looking at him for the longest time. Her wide, scared, teary eyes were trained on him in an unwavering stare. He tried to hold her gaze as he waited for her to finish, but then he realized...that was it.

She wouldn't be saying any more.

The sound of Betty's rapid breathing brought him back. She was starting to panic. "Betty. Look at me," he said sternly. She was hyperventilating, looking everywhere except at him. "Hey—" he released his hold on her, cupping her face gently from both sides. "Look at me."

She finally looked at him, with wide, terrified eyes that were so, so similar… "You're okay. You're safe." When she tried to look anxiously back towards Alexander's room, he pulled her even closer. "You're safe. You made it. I got you." Jughead closed his eyes and held her tightly; for his sake or hers, he couldn't say which, and he didn't care. All that mattered was that she was alive.

* * *

His success in keeping Betty safe and out of harm's way was very short-lived, as they soon were walking back into the hotel. All because Betty forgot the damn blackberry...

He had argued with both Kevin and Betty in the van, insisting that the getting the intel wasn't worth getting caught at the crime scene. Alice would have his head if her daughter ended up in custody.

And besides, they weren't the FBI; they couldn't just waltz back into a crime scene, flash some shiny badges, and walk out free. They were CIA—they didn't even have badges.

But Betty didn't seem to quite understand him.

"You are crazy, Cooper," Jughead said to her once they were back in the hotel elevator. For someone who was meant to be some hot-shot 'special recruit', she really was out of her mind...

" Shut up . You're not even supposed to be out of the van, remember?"

"And you were supposed to grab the device, remember?" he shot back. She was seriously testing his patience. What was special about this girl, anyway? he wondered, mildly annoyed now.

"This is my mistake, I can fix it by myself. I don't need you to fix it for me."

Fix…what? Jughead was wholly confused. "I'm not fixing anything!" He had no problem letting her correct her own mistakes—so long as he was there to keep her safe. There was no way he was gonna let her do something this stupid alone . Alice would have his ass, and then he'd neverreturn to the field.

"Yes you are! There is no other reason for you to be coming with me!"

"God, you're as stubborn as your mother." Jughead muttered under his breath. Other than her ability to argue, he really couldn't tell what was so special about her.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"

Jughead ran an angry hand through his hair, emotions threatening to show. He tried to compose himself. Keep it cool. You piss her off, she'll never let you go with her. "Nothing," he ended up saying. "Just forget it."

"No." Betty slammed the emergency stop button, forcing the elevator to grind to a halt at level four. "Explain," she demanded, crossing her arms and glaring up at him.

If he wasn't so angry, he'd think it was kinda cute.

"There's nothing to explain! Just let me go with you, okay?" He couldn't help his voice from rising slightly.

"No! Not okay!"

His job was simple—protect Betty. A protected Betty means a happy Alice. A happy Alice means a lifted suspension.

"Betty," he said, clenching his teeth. "I'm coming with you, and that's final."

" No— I'm telling you, I don't need your help in there!"

He was really close to losing his shit. "It's not about the damn device!"

"Then what is it?" Betty shouted. "What is your problem?"

My problem? Now he's lost it.

" Goddammit Betty— " Jughead angrily slammed his hand on the wall next to Betty and she jumped back a foot, startled. "You are making it sohard to protect you, do you know that?"

"I don't need you to protect me!"

"That's my job!" he blurted out angrily.

FUCK. He probably shouldn't have told her that. Shit, shit, shit. Maybe she didn't catch it.

"What the hell does that even mean, Jughead?!"

Well, double-shit. Now what? He couldn't tell her the truth, or else she'd probably fight him on it and make his job even harder…

Play it off. Blame her. Just change the topic! he thought quickly.

So he rolled his eyes and scoffed sarcastically, looking away. "Okay, fine. Act like you don't know," he lied smoothly, praying she'd just shut up and work with him.

"I don't!" Betty cried in frustration, letting out a huff. "God, you know, for someone so hot you are so thick-headed!"

Think-headed? Me? Something inside of him snapped. He took a dangerously close step forward, absolutely appalled that she was actually insultinghim . " I'm thick-headed?!"

"Yes— you! " Betty jabbed him hard in the chest with her finger. Whoa. He looked down at her in total shock. No woman has ever talked to him this way. "You are so...so…" She was fumbling with her words; he thought it was kind of funny.

"What?" Jughead challenged, taking another step closer and daring her to say more. With the distance between them quickly shrinking, he expected her to get flustered or start swooning—as most women did. But not Betty, oh no. It was becoming clear to him that Betty was quite different from other women. Betty just kept going .

"Frustrating!" Betty finally shouted, jabbing him again. "And domineering !" She moved to jab him a third time, but he slapped her hand away, glaring at her angrily. She was really pushing his buttons. "And you just—you make me so...so—"

"Hot?" he suggested smugly, smirking now as he repeated her earlier words back to her. As if I could let that one slip by…

Now she was blushing hard, but for different reasons than he'd prefer. Angry (and now slightly embarrassed), Betty let out an indignant screech, smacking him hard in the chest with two fists. "You! Are so! Infuriating! God! " she shouted, hitting him harder with every word. He grimaced underneath the pounding of her fists, wondering why in the hell he was putting himself through a second beating with this girl.

She made a move to shove him, but he moved faster, catching both her fists in one hand. He placed the other on the elevator wall, effectively trapping her in a corner.

"Betty," Jughead threatened, gripping her wrists tightly in a warning—but his words were lost; she was too busy yelling to hear him.

"Let go!" she demanded, cursing him out in a different language. Clearly, all sound reasoning has left Betty Cooper.

Pissed and exhausted, Jughead was at an absolute loss. Never would he have expected this girl to be so wild and uncontrollable—so angry andfeisty . So unlike the sweet, laid-back beauty he first spotted in the office.

God, she sure has a dirty mouth , he thought angrily, recognizing the words 'dirty bastard' in several other languages. And it was in that moment, when his eyes lowered to her lips, that a risky idea formed in his mind.

Was it was a moment of weakness? Perhaps; but in the moment, it was the quickest solution he could come up with to shut her the hell up.

Betty was on her sixth language when he abruptly released her hands, dropping his own onto her waist and slamming her back into the wall roughly. She yelped in surprise when her head snapped back to hit the wall painfully, glancing back up at him in anger. But he didn't relent, gripping her hips in his hands and dipping down to deliver a bold, assertive kiss.

He felt her freeze, but her hands remained balled into fists between them. Please unclench, he thought. Stop fighting me! He hastily moved his lips against hers, communicating his urgency another way. It took a few moments, but she finally unclenched her fists and let them drop to his ! He smirked as he continued to kiss her, feeling as though he tamed the beast.

Mission seemingly accomplished, he was ready to pull away and (hopefully) have an actual conversation with her—but the softest sound escaped Betty that made Jughead slow everything down. Was that a moan? he thought in disbelief, thinking he must've misheard. She was literally ready to kick my ass a few moments ago, surely she couldn't be enjoying this...

All his doubts disappeared as Betty started to kiss him back, winding one hand up his shoulder and teasing his hair playfully with her fingers. Well, shit, okay...okay, we should probably stop, he thought, trying to refocus on their mission.

But then, her feather-light teasing of his hair suddenly turned into an incredibly aggressive tug—a silent message that said she was still clearly pissed off.

He winced at the sharp pain, a deep growl escaping him. Bitch, he thought angrily. Two could play that game. He nipped at her roughly in response before tugging extra hard on her bottom lip. She thought I was domineering before? I'll show her domineering...

But it probably around this time that Jughead's brain began to short-circuit, because Betty moaned loudly into their kiss. All of his common sense decided to take a fat nap while something more primitive took control. Betty Cooper became his sole focus—the focus of his anger, the focus of his frustration, but also the focus of his needs. It was stupid how much he hated her and wanted her at the same time.

He pushed her even more firmly into the wall so he could press up against her, his fingers digging harder into her hips. He held nothing back as he kissed her ruthlessly, their movements becoming more frantic and wild. Still not enough...

Betty clearly felt the same frustration. She balled a fist in his shirt and pulled him even closer; with her free hand, she ran her nails across his scalp, eliciting a long groan from him. GOOD LORD, Jughead thought, relishing the feeling; this woman would be his undoing. He was overwhelmed by every sensation—the feel of her hands running over his body, the smell of her vanilla perfume, the breathy little moans that escaped her between kisses. And now, the sweet, sweet taste of her as she slipped her tongue between his lips. He almost moaned when her tongue swept sensually across his, amazed by how good she felt.

Oh, but it wasn't enough. He needed— they needed— more. He moved one hand from her hip to the small of her back and roughly pulled her body flush against his, finally getting the contact he was searching for. She gasped in surprise, no doubt feeling how hard he had gotten in the last five minutes, but he just kissed her harder.

He wanted more.

"Betty," he warned with a low growl, breaking their kiss and nipping at her lip furiously. "You need to stop this before I take this further." He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking her right there in the elevator, unless she ended this now .

"Me?" she breathed, driving him crazy as she nipped him right back."You're the one who started this."

"Only because you wouldn't stop yelling," he said with several harsh, quick kisses.

"What?!" Betty suddenly shrieked, pulling away and glaring at him. "Are you kidding me?!"

"This was the only way to shut you up! Besides," he looked down at her smugly. "I didn't see you complaining."

"I don't see you complaining, either," Betty snapped back, daringly rolling her hips over his growing hard-on. You little minx...

Jughead clenched his teeth, releasing his hold on her hips so he could step back. I guess fun time's over, he thought sourly.

Sexual frustration never had a more literal meaning.

They glared at each other heatedly for several quiet moments, both of them attempting to calm their breathing. He dragged his gaze over her body, eyeing the skirt that was hiked up dangerously high, and her blouse that was crumpled around her waist, half untucked from their romp. She looked like sex on legs—there was no way in hell he would be able to calm down with her looking like that . "Fix your blouse," he eventually muttered, adjusting his leather jacket and reaching over to restart the elevator.

"Fix your pants ," she fired back angrily, eyes flickering down to his bulge that was still very prominent. He growled in reply, looking away from her. The rest of their elevator ride was mostly silent as they readjusted their clothing.

He had never had a makeout session that backfired so terribly. How in the world did she end up pissed off—again? he thought, letting out a frustrated sigh. His charms have never failed him before.

Seven...Eight...Nine… Damn, this elevator was slow.

Unless maybe she didn't find him charming , he thought with a frown, recalling that she had been cursing him out in multiple languages.

"You know six languages?" he finally questioned, now having a moment to be mildly impressed.

"What?"

"You got pretty busy calling me a 'dirty bastard'—in six languages. I counted."

Betty just sighed and said nothing, watching the elevator's floor count as it passed ten and eleven. "Seven," she finally said, after several seconds of silence.

"What?"

"I speak seven languages," she corrected, just as the elevator dinged.

They emerged on the thirteenth floor. "You only used six," Jughead said, confused.

"I know," Betty replied with an eye roll. "You didn't let me finish ."

He almost laughed. Almost .

* * *

**I've had a crazy few months and it took me longer than I wanted to write this up. But, things are better!**

**I've made a Twitter and CuriousCat account, both under the handle allyisdreaming_ , so please feel free to follow/DM/send me questions! CC is anonymous if you are shy ;)**

**Otherwise, please like + comment below and share your thoughts! I'm super excited to move on with this story!**

**\- xoxo, A**


	5. Chauffeurs and Cold Chambers

**All your comments make me SO GIDDY❤️ Thank you to everyone who has kept up so far! I've had a crazy year, but I'm happy to be back on my writing game. (Yes, this story is not dead—surprise!)**

* * *

As predicted, FBI was already on the scene. Yellow caution tape blocked access to the end of the hallway, and two FBI agents stood guard outside of the penthouse suite.

When they approached the yellow tape, one of them was quick to stop them. "I'm sorry ma'am, but this area is closed off. You're not allowed in here—"

"Oh, no, I understand! It's just, um—" Betty turned up her "frightened-girl" charade, looking at the agent with wide eyes. In a shaky voice, she whispered, "I was here when it happened."

_Now that bit deserved an Oscar,_ Jughead thought, impressed.

The blonde-haired man frowned, looking her over briefly before glancing suspiciously at Jughead. "Who's he?"

Jughead and her shared a look. _He's her...what? _

He began to answer with, "I'm her—" But Betty cut him off with "—chauffeur!"

_Chauffeur?_ Jughead bit his tongue in annoyance. _She did NOT..._

"Yes! He's my _driver..._although he really should stay back in the car," Betty emphasized, looking at him pointedly, and he narrowed his eyes in response.

"In that case, we'd like to take your statement inside, miss," the agent said to her, lifting the yellow caution tape and gesturing inside the penthouse.

Betty's face lit up. "Why, of course! Thank you…" She glanced down at his shirt, reading his nametag. _"...Charles." _

Jughead started to duck under the yellow tape after Betty, but Charles stopped him. "Not you," he said, sternly. "Just the lady."

Betty caught Jughead's glare of disapproval and tilted her head in amusement. The edges of her lips twitched as she fought off laughter. "Go fetch the car!" she suggested with a wink, and his temper flared at her dismissal. "Warm it up for me!"

_That little..._

* * *

"Bitch!" The back doors of the van slammed angrily as a cursing Jughead climbed in.

"What the hell? Where is Betty?" Kevin asked, looking back at him from the driver's seat.

"She's giving a statement to the fucking _FBI,"_ he grumbled distastefully, slouching on the floor of the van.

"What?!" Kevin exclaimed, confused. "And you let her?"

"You think I wanted that?" he shot back, annoyed. "She introduced me as her 'chauffeur' and basically _shooed_ me away, to—what was her words?—'fetch the car'."

"_'Fetch the car?_'" Kevin busted out a hearty laugh. "Jesus, man—Betty has been here for less than 24 hours and she's already managed to reduce you from alpha agent to servant boy."

Jughead reached over to _thwack_ him in the back of the head. Idiot.

"Ow!" Kevin yelped, still laughing. "I'm just saying!"

"Yeah, well, don't." Jughead ran his hands over his face tiredly.

"Look at you, she's got you all wound up!"

"She does not!"

"She so does!" Kevin snickered.

"Can we focus, please?" Jughead said irately. "Betty's breaking protocol by being in FBI territory. If she doesn't get her intel we're in _deep_ shit." And then he'll _never_ get un-benched...

As if on cue, the back doors flew open. Betty appeared before them, waving the black device in her hand proudly. "Crisis averted—Go, go!" she called to Kevin, shutting the doors and settling across from Jughead.

"Damn, Cooper." Kevin let out a whistle, putting it in drive. "That was...fast."

_Really fast,_ Jughead agreed silently, frowning at Betty suspiciously. "Did that Charles guy even take your statement?"

Betty let out a _pfft._ "Yeah, that was easy. I told him Alexander was a client. He bought the whole call girl story."

"And that?" He glanced at the device in her hands.

"I have sneaky hands," she said simply.

_You certainly do,_ he thought, their elevator romp briefly crossing his mind.

"Not that sneaky," they heard Kevin mutter from up front.

"Sorry?" Betty asked.

"Nothing!"

"Keller..." Jughead warned.

"It's just—next time ya'll get down and dirty on a mission, turn your coms off, will ya?"

"Oh my _god."_ Betty covered her face, mortified. "Kevin, you listened?!"

"It wasn't intentional, jeez! I cut the sound as soon as I could, I don't wanna hear you two doing the nasty."

"Well, there won't be a next time to worry about," Jughead insisted, looking hard at Betty. "Right, Betts?"

An expression he couldn't read flashed across her face, but she quickly collected herself and gave a firm nod. "Right. Of course not. That was…"

_Hot? Surreal? Wild? Exhilarating? _

His subconscious was getting carried away—Jughead mentally slapped himself. _No! Stop that!_

"A mistake," Betty finished.

"One that won't happen again," he agreed, locking his gaze with hers as if to seal the statement. It _absolutely_ couldn't happen again.

"Never again."

* * *

"Never again? You both are full of shit," Kevin was whispering to Betty as they walked into tech ops.

_"Shut. Up,"_ she muttered. "It was a mistake—will you let it go?"

"Yeah, sure Betty." He smirked, sitting down at his station and powering on the computer. "I can't _wait_ for my beer on Friday."

Her steps faltered as she approached his desk. "This does _not_ count."

"Oh, so this isn't a crush?"

"Hell no!" she replied, louder this time. As far as she was concerned, Jughead was an aggressive, stubborn, arrogant piece of—

"Hell no what?" They both looked up as Jughead walked in with Alice.

"Nothing," Betty replied quickly, nudging Kevin extra hard with her elbow when he opened his mouth.

"Why don't I see intel on the screens, Keller?" Alice demanded, and he muttered a string of apologies as he jumped to work.

Moments later, Betty found herself getting pulled aside by her mother. "So Jughead tells me there was a little _mishap_ with the mission?"

Anxiety hit Betty hard. _Oh god, oh god, oh god, she knows. She knows I failed. She knows we had to turn back for the intel._ Her fists clenched hard, only part of her vaguely aware of the nails digging into her palms. "I—I'm sorry, there was so much confusion and I tried to save the—"

"The _asset,"_ Jughead interrupted, suddenly appearing by Betty's side as she was about to say the phone. "She tried to save Alexander, but the shot killed him instantly. There was nothing more she could do except grab the phone and leave in the middle of the gunfire."

Betty glanced up at him, puzzled by his lie. _That's not exactly the way it went._

At Jughead's remark, Alice regarded Betty with praise. "Well. As admirable as that is, we can't save them all, Elizabeth. You did the right thing, not leaving without the intel. Let's see why it was worth dying for," she nodded, stepping away to speak with Kevin.

"Why did you do that?" Betty hissed under her breath. "That's not how it happened."

"Are you _trying_ to get suspended on your first day?" he whispered back, roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her further to the side. "It's completely against protocol to cross paths with the FBI. You got what Alice wanted—that's all that needs to be said."

It took a few seconds to process his words when she realized...he was covering for her? He searched her face, waiting for her to respond, when they suddenly heard Kevin mutter, "Uh oh."

Betty swiftly spun out of Jughead's grasp, hurrying to Kevin's side in a panic. "What do you mean 'uh oh'?" Every possible mistake ran through her mind. _Did I grab the wrong device? Did I do the transfer wrong? Was it damaged in the gunfire?_

Kevin read aloud a few titles as he scrolled through the documents. "I see reports on ISIS attacks throughout Europe, the Middle East…"

"Already got it," Alice said, eyes narrowing in disappointment as she followed along on the big screen.

"Okay…" Kevin scrolled. "Pan Am 103 bombing…"

"Old news."

"Putin's political aspirations as of last summer…"

"We already _know _that." Alice sighed, shaking her head. "This is all useless. Just take Ordinov off our threat lists, Keller. And Betty, type up a closer and put it on my desk by the end of the day.'

Alice handed her the case folder on her way out the door. Betty, however, was shocked. "Wait—that's it?"

"There's nothing else to do. Either Alexander was too stupid to know what good intel is, or he was trying to fool us. Either way—he's dead, we saved money, and we have one less threat to worry about. You did good work, Betty, but we're done." Alice gave her a short nod of approval before leaving them.

"I don't believe it. This can't be it," Betty said indignantly, turning back to the documents on the big screen.

"Sometimes things just don't work out how you expect," Kevin said, trying to ease her mind. "You should be happy! Your first mission was a success!"

Her mind briefly flashed back on the hotel room, recalling how it exploded with bullets. "So I almost died for _nothing?"_ Frustrated, she turned to Jughead, who had been silently observing from the side of the room. "None of this seems wrong to you?"

"Of course it does. But there's nothing else we can do," he replied simply.

_There's nothing else to do? _Betty stormed out wordlessly, heading towards the break room. It was wrong, all of it. The entire case seemed _off;_ she knew in her gut that something wasn't adding up.

"Hey."

She was staring hard into a glass of water when Archie entered the break room, interrupting her thoughts. "Oh, hey. What are you doing here?" Archie worked for _the_ FP Jones, who was definitely more than a few floors up.

"Well I was here looking for Alice… and then I saw you storming out of tech ops. Thought you could use a friendly ear." He looked at her with a sympathetic smile. "Wanna vent about your first day?"

"Well, let's see…" Betty gave a dry laugh, looking down at the ground tiredly as she replayed the events of today in her mind. "I saw a person get killed today. I was shot at. I lied to a federal agent. I stole evidence from a crime scene…"

"So, basically, a typical day at the Agency," Archie joked. Betty rolled her eyes, but appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood. "Look..." He moved to lean on the counter next to her. "I wouldn't put too much weight on it. A lot of cases won't turn out how you think they will."

"But that's my point," Betty insisted. "I'm almost certain it all went wrong."

Archie looked at her curiously. "What makes you so sure?"

In about two minutes, Betty had given him a rapid-fire summary of what happened. By the end of it, he was looking at her with a confused expression. "Wait, so—you didn't get _anything_ useful from Alexander?"

"No, the intel was a bust," Betty muttered. She crossed her arms and started to pace back and forth. "I just can't get over the irony of it all."

"What irony?"

"The way a top-ranked assassin gets himself assassinated?" Betty looked at him with an expression that said _what the actual fuck._ "Alexander was an experienced sniper. He should've known better than to stand next to an exposed window." She stopped pacing, coming to stand next to Archie. "I'm probably crazy for even thinking this, but...part of me wonders if we even had the right guy, you know?"

They stood in silence for a few seconds before Archie quietly said, "Maybe you're not as crazy as you think."

Betty looked at him, puzzled, and he reached into his back pocket to pull out a business card. He looked around briefly, as if to make sure they were totally alone, and then slid the card across the counter. "Let me tell you about this guy I know..."

* * *

Jughead was always on high alert whenever he saw Archie lingering around the DPD. He was never usually here, since he worked for the big guy upstairs. Archie's presence always meant something else was going on—and Jughead always had a hard time figuring out exactly_ what. _

The first red flag went off in Jughead's mind when he saw Archie and Betty leaving the break room together. He waited until Betty returned to her desk before chatting her from his computer. _So you met Golden Boy, huh? _

From across the bullpen, he saw her frown at her screen. _Who is this?_ she typed back.

_Your favorite 'chauffeur',_ he replied sarcastically. _Who else?_

At this, he saw her look around the room until she found him. Jughead gave a salute with two fingers and she rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the computer. _Har-har. Don't you have another van to babysit? _

_Don't you have a case to write up?_ he shot back.

Betty scowled, typing, _You're right, it's a waste of time talking to you. _ She signed out immediately.

The second red flag came a few minutes later, when Jughead saw Archie stopping by Betty's desk. He leaned down to whisper something, and she said something earnestly in return. Archie then gave her a wink before heading for the exit.

_When did they get so chummy?_ Jughead frowned, leaving his desk to run this by Kevin.

Andrews was a great agent, sure—but he did things differently under FP's control. With strict orders from Alice to help shape up Betty, he figured he should put this on Kevin's radar, too. They didn't need Andrews coming in and polluting her mind.

Jughead slid the glass doors shut behind him as he entered tech ops. "We might have a problem."

Kevin groaned loudly, spinning around in his chair to face him. "You _always_ have a problem! We've had enough for today!"

"Andrews stopped by."

Kevin frowned. "Archie? I didn't know he was doing any cases with us."

"He's not." Jughead turned back to the window, observing the busy bullpen below. "And he paid a special visit to Betty. Very hush-hush."

"I mean, it's probably nothing. Why don't you ask her about it?"

Jughead scoffed, recalling how quickly she signed offline. "She's not exactly in a chatty mood."

Kevin started to list a few other ideas, but Jughead wasn't listening anymore. Through the window, he spotted Betty closing up, grabbing her coat, and quickly heading for the doors. _That's...shady._

"Actually, you're right—I'll just ask her about it," Jughead lied smoothly, hurrying out of Kevin's office without a second glance.

"Jeez, you're welcome!" he heard Kevin shout after him.

* * *

Jughead had zero plans to ask her about it. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop her from wherever she was going.

So, he hopped on his bike and followed her car. All the way to…

The D.C. morgue?

Jughead watched from a distance as Betty lingered around one of the back entrances. _What are you doing, Cooper?_

She glanced around briefly, inching her way closer to the door. "Dammit," he muttered, eventually stepping out of his hiding spot. He knew that look; he's _worn_ that look, before.

She was trying to break in.

Jughead approached her silently, getting close enough to peer over her shoulder at the biometric lock she was inspecting. He rolled his eyes; there was _no_ way she was getting past that.

Just to be annoying, he leaned in extra close and said loudly into her ear, _"Whatcha doin?"_

Betty jumped about a foot, whirling around and shouting, "What the hell?! Where did you—"

"Let's go." He grabbed her by the elbow, dragging her away. "You're done here."

"Don't tell me what to do!" She pulled her arm back and angrily planted her feet. "Are you _following_ me now?"

"Are you breaking into a _morgue?"_ he fired back.

"I am not 'breaking in'—"

The door behind them suddenly opened and a man in a white coat strolled past them. "There he is!" he heard her whisper. Betty grinned and waved. "Excuse me! Sir!"

Jughead yanked her back to his side before she could walk away. "Betty—"

She glared at him and snapped quietly, "Just go with it!"

"Can I help you?" They both looked up as the man approached. The name _Dr. Curdle_ was stitched onto the front of his lab coat.

"Yes!" Betty smiled brightly. She pulled out her phone, subtly wiping the screen clean behind her back before holding it out. "Would you mind taking a photo for us? We've been trying all afternoon to get a shot with the Capitol in the background." Betty gestured to the building behind them.

Dr. Curdle looked between the two of them uncertainly, but agreed. As he stepped back to frame the shot, Betty wrapped an arm around Jughead's waist, pinching him hard. "Ow!" he yelped.

_"Sell it, asshole,"_ she hissed through her grin. He forced a smile on his face just in time for the flash.

"Yay! Thank you _so_ much!" Betty bounded forward happily and took her phone back. She waited for Dr. Curdle to disappear around the corner before making a beeline for the door again.

"Oh, come on." Jughead followed with an annoyed grumble. "This is too much for one day. We're leaving. _Now." _

He placed a hand on her shoulder, but she quickly shrugged it off with a stubborn, "Don't think so!"

He made a mental note to kick Archie's ass for planting this idea in her head. "Whatever you're doing isn't worth the jail time, Cooper."

"Sure it is," she insisted.

"Betty..." As he stepped closer, he saw her carefully pressing a thin piece of paper from her cellphone. Jughead laughed. "Paper? That's never gonna work."

"Of course it will," she mumbled, focusing intently on the paper she was peeling back. "See, it's not just _any_ paper—it's oil blotting paper. I'm gonna take a wild guess and say you have no idea what oil blotters are?" _Oil...blotters? _

"Uh…"

"Thought so," Betty smirked. "They're designed to pick up the oils from your skin. And, if you're not sloppy with it..." She trailed off, holding the paper up to the light. A faint outline of a print could be seen. "...you won't smear the oils around."

She held the paper by the edges and carefully pressed it against the fingerprint scanner. It took a few seconds before they heard a loud buzz as the door unlocked. "Ha!" Betty smiled triumphantly, pulling it open.

"Hang on—" Jughead began to protest, but she interrupted him with an annoyed groan.

"Look, Jughead—I'm going in, whether you like it or not," she stated firmly. "Either help me, or go."

They stared at each other for several seconds before she gave a frustrated huff and threw the door open, heading inside.

Jughead swore under his breath, debating his options for several seconds. _This woman is going to be my downfall,_ he thought tiredly, barely catching the door before it closed shut.

* * *

_Ordinov...Ordinov… Where the hell was he? _

Betty easily found the room where the bodies were kept. There were dozens of cold chambers, each metal door labeled with the name of the person inside.

But none of them was Alexander.

"His body won't be labeled, yet."

Betty looked up in surprise, not expecting to see Jughead in the doorway. "You followed me," she stated, dumbfounded.

He raised an eyebrow. "We've established that..."

"I mean, you _came_—you didn't leave," she replied, still confused. "Why?"

"Because you're clearly getting yourself into trouble." Jughead surveyed the body chambers as he entered the room. "And also because _Andrews_ sent you here."

"I'm not getting myself—" Betty stopped with a frown. "Wait, what makes you think Archie sent me here?"

"Archie tends to stick his nose where it doesn't belong," Jughead replied. "He doesn't think with his head. So whatever he told you to do, ignore it."

"He didn't _tell_ me to do anything," she said stubbornly, returning her gaze to the wall in front of her. She didn't like what he was implying—as if she simply just 'obeyed.' Betty Cooper ran her own life—she didn't just take orders willy nilly. "Let me be clear: I'm here for _myself._ I just wanted to check out Alexander's body."

"Seriously? His body?" Jughead looked at her in disbelief. "What—you didn't get a good enough look when he lost his robe earlier?

"Ew!" Betty cringed at the memory. "And no!"

"Oh, wait. I get it now." He suddenly grinned. "You're a_ necrophiliac."_

_"Jughead!"_ she exclaimed, horrified.

He held up his hands in defense. "It's okay if you are! I'm not judging!"

"Oh my god, Jug—_I'm not!"_ Betty was shaking her head in vigorous denial. "I just need to see if he has any tattoos."

"Tattoos?" She had his full attention now.

"Yeah, you know—something that would tie him back to that prison he was in." Betty knew from her research that all Black Dolphin prisoners had tattoos that indicated the crimes they committed. The more detailed the tattoo, the more brutal the crime, the more respect they got from prison mates. For a top-ranked assassin like Alexander, he should have several.

Jughead looked at her thoughtfully as he considered her answer. "Well, like I said, he won't be labeled. He wouldn't have used his real name at the hotel." At the very corner was one metal door labeled _John Doe_. Jughead grabbed the handle and pulled, rolling out the body on the table inside. "This your guy?"

Betty lifted the sheet from the body, instantly recognizing Alexander's face. "Yup, that's him..." She carefully inspected his arms and neck, and then used the sheet to lift his shoulders just enough to expose his back.

_Fuck._ She dropped his body onto the table with a heavy _THUD_, stepping back with a worried look on her face. "Jug..."

"What?" Jughead leaned in for a closer look. "None?"

"Clean as a Boy Scout."

He did a second check of the body, just to be sure. "And you're _certain_ this is the man you met in the penthouse?"

Betty tugged the sheet down just enough to reveal the gunshot wound in his chest. _No way she could forget that._ "Definitely." She subconsciously touched her cheek, as if trying to wipe away the memory of Alexander's blood splattering across her face.

"Well…" Jughead pulled the sheet back over the body. "I guess it's good you didn't write up that case report."

"And how would you know if I did it or not?" Betty placed her hands on her hips defensively, annoyed at his accusation (but more annoyed that he was right).

"Because it's a bitch to write and take a couple of hours, at the very least. You spent a grand total of five minutes at your computer before you took off."

_Observant little fuck._ Betty dropped her hands and let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, fine, so I didn't do it—so what?"

"So _good._ Because you were right earlier." He was looking at her so seriously, she was scared to break eye contact. "This isn't it; we're not done."

"We're not done," she repeated meekly, mildly distracted by his eyes. _They were stunningly bright—are they green?_

"You never really met Alexander." _Nope. Blue, definitely blue. _

"Which means…he's still out there," she added, finally refocusing. Her anxiety started to flare up as the severity of the situation finally hit her.

She never met the real assassin. They got sent on a wild goose chase that got an innocent man killed—and for what? Why?

The sudden flash of bright red lights and blaring roar of the building's alarm cut through her thoughts, making her jump.

Betty cursed and Jughead moved to shove John Doe back into his compartment. "Time to go," he said, slamming the metal door shut. "Head out the back!"

It was like a scene out of The Breakfast Club—the two of them sprinting down the halls, turning suddenly, and changing directions when they heard security coming their way.

They eventually made it to a different back exit, but emerged only to find a group of FBI agents waiting outside. Led by the one and only—

"Charles!" Betty squeaked in surprise, spotting the blonde agent at the front of the pack. _Shit, shit, shit. _

_"You?"_ Charles looked at her, confused. "Didn't I just take your statement a few hours ago?"

"Oh, was that me?" She gave him a sheepish smile, playing dumb. "I don't really remember—I've had a busy day, honestly."

"Really busy," Jughead chimed in, stepping forward and placing his hand on her lower back. He was nudging her slightly towards the street. She just barely heard him whisper, _"Tell him nothing."_

_"Crazy_ busy," Betty emphasized to Charles, following Jughead's lead. "Well, it was nice seeing you…"

"I don't think so," Charles said, stepping forward. With a single nod, two agents grabbed and cuffed them. "You two aren't going anywhere."

* * *

Charles knew when he was being played. But with Jughead and Betty, he just couldn't figure out why. So, he kept them in two separate interrogation rooms, until he could sort it all out.

"How is it that you were at _both_ of my crime scenes? In the same day?"

Betty smiled at him from across the table—but he could tell it was fake. "Fate's just throwing us together, huh?"

"I don't believe in fate," he said firmly.

"How about coincidences?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. "It's Betty, correct?"

"That's my name." She leaned forward and placed her chin in her hand, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Okay Betty...Why don't you start by telling me what you were doing at that morgue when the alarms went off?"

"I was working," she said simply.

He looked at her in disbelief. "You were...working?"

"Mmhm."

"At a _morgue."_

Another smile. "That's right."

Stumped, Charles pulled out his pocket notebook, reviewing his notes from her statement at the hotel. "Didn't you tell me you were a prostitute?"

Her expression suddenly changed, her eyes flashing as she said, "I thought I told you we didn't like that term."

He flipped a page, referencing a few more notes. "Right…Call girl," he corrected.

Betty gave him a tight smile. "That's better."

"So, how exactly does that 'line of work' place you at a morgue?" Charles looked at her smugly. _Gotcha,_ he thought confidently. _Can't talk your way out of this one!_

"Well…" Betty pursed her lips, thinking for a few seconds. "You know my friend you're holding in the next room?" Charles nodded. "Let's just say...he's a _client_ of mine."

"A client," he repeated doubtfully.

"That's him."

Charles suddenly got up, irritated. "Mind if I check this with your _friend?"_

"Client," Betty corrected with the wave of her finger. _Smartass. _"But, sure, go right ahead!"

* * *

"Yeah, I'm a client of hers." Jughead gave Charles a cocky smirk from across the table. "So what?"

Charles was getting more confused and frustrated by the second. "Didn't you say you were her chauffeur?"

"When did I say that?"

"At the damn hotel," he almost growled.

"Oh _that. _Well, what did you expect? Her work's not exactly legal. She wasn't about to expose one of her regular clients to a _Fed._ I pay her good money to keep our business quiet."

Charles narrowed his eyes at him, getting up slowly and excusing himself from the room.

* * *

"What do you mean you've met 'too many times'?" Charles demanded.

"As in _a lot,_" Betty explained slowly, looking at him like he was dumb. "He's a regular of mine. So, yeah, we meet—often. He pays me well, and I keep things hush-hush. That's our deal."

Charles stared at her, astounded at how her story perfectly aligned with Jughead's. He still didn't buy it, but they were spouting the same exact shit. He was struggling to catch them in a lie.

"You still haven't told me why you were there," Charles pressed on. "At the morgue."

She hesitated for a few seconds and he thought, _finally!_ "Mmm, I don't know if I should say. It's sort of...personal, for my client," she eventually said. "I don't think he'd appreciate me telling you all of his dirty little secrets."

Charles let out a slow breath, trying to keep calm. "Look, Betty...I still might be able to protect you from a trespassing charge. But you've gotta come clean first. Just tell me why you were there," he said gently, deciding to try a softer approach. "I won't be upset. I just want an answer."

Betty looked amused. "You might be a _little_ upset..."

"I won't," he insisted. "Just tell me."

"Okay, well—since you asked..." She kept the same amused smile on her face as she said, "I guess you could say my client has a...fetish."

* * *

"I—_what?"_

"It's called necrophilia, Charles." Jughead scoffed. "Can you spell it?"

Charles stared at Jughead like he grew a third eye. "You're not serious."

"I'm dead serious. No pun intended." Jughead looked at him, bothered. "Wait, are you judging me right now?"

"I'm not—"

"Because I'm feeling pretty judged."

"I'm really—"

"I mean, I just can't help how I am, you know?" Jughead turned his eyes upward as he dramatically said, "I was _born_ this way! I can't help it if I have an attraction to dead—"

"Stop!" Charles threw both his hands up in frustration. "Please, god, _stop._ I get the picture."

Jughead stayed silent for a few seconds before quietly adding, "Betty's really quite accommodating about the whole thing—"

"Not. Another. Word." Charles held up a finger in warning and Jughead shut up with a sly grin. The loud ringing of Charles' phone cut through the following silence, saving them both from continuing this awkward conversation.

* * *

Charles burst back into Betty's room with newfound anger. "You know what I think?"

"What's that?"

"I think you're both spooks."

"Spooks?" She looked at him with big, innocent eyes. "Like, ghosts?"

"Like_ Langley,"_ he clarified harshly, silently praying that she'd break under his gaze.

But she didn't even squirm. "I told you: I'm nothing more than a simple call girl."

"Then why did I just get a call from my _boss's boss_," Charles exclaimed, "Someone I've never spoken to in my entire life—demanding the release of you two idiots?"

"Wow. I don't know what to tell ya." Betty shrugged and smiled brightly, adding with a wink, "Maybe your boss's boss is a 'special client', too."

Charles had no choice but to release them within the hour.

* * *

"You owe me one, Cooper," Jughead stated once they were finally outside again.

"Me?!" she exclaimed. "If it weren't for you, I would've been in and out within minutes."

He waved his arm, hailing a taxi cab to get them back to the morgue. "If it weren't for me, you never would have found your John Doe."

They argued in the cab for several minutes before Betty finally admitted defeat. "Okay, okay fine! You win. I owe you one."

"A _big_ one," he stressed. "Do you have any idea what I had to say to get us out of there?"

"You?" Betty scoffed. "I had to pretend you were my _client." _

"And I had to pretend I was a _necrophiliac!"_

The cab driver gave them a strange look, clearing his throat loudly and turning the radio up.

"Jughead!" Betty laughed. "When I told Charles you had a fetish, you could've gone with _any_ fetish—but you went for dead bodies?" she whispered through laughter.

"We were in a morgue!" Jughead groaned, tilting his head against the window of the car. "Forget it. We have bigger problems now, Cooper. Charles knew we were CIA."

She clenched her fists, nervous. "How long until Alice finds out?"

"Honestly? She probably already knows."

As if on cue, Betty's phone began to buzz, her mom's name shining angrily on her screen. "Speak of the devil…" She answered the call with a hesitant, "Hi, Mom—"

_"ELIZABETH HAVE YOU LOST YOUR DAMN MIND?!" _

Betty winced at her mother's loud screeching. "Mom—"

_"Do you have any idea what I had to do to get you two out of FBI custody?!"_

The cab driver suddenly cursed and slammed on the breaks, jolting the both of them into the backs of the seats in front of them. "What's with the heavy traffic, pal?" Jughead asked, annoyed. "The morgue is just up a few blocks."

The cabbie buried his hand into his horn before making a sharp turn. "They're setting up for that big event downtown, tonight. Looks like they're blocking a bunch of streets, so I have to go around."

Betty leaned forward curiously, holding her screaming mother away from her ear. "What event is this?"

"I don't know, lady, some fancy 'Leadership Summit' or whatever it's called." He honked his horn aggressively a few more times, urging the bumper-to-bumper traffic to move. "It's that annual event, with all those diplomatic fellas."

_"Diplomats?"_ Betty looked at Jughead with wide eyes as realization hit her. "Jug, oh my god."

"What?"

"That's it! Oh my god, we need to go—sir, stop the car! Stop!"

The cabbie pulled over, cursing her out angrily as she and Jughead scrambled out of the car. "What the hell was that? We're almost back—_Betty!"_

He was calling after her, but she had already taken off down the street towards the morgue. "It's only a few blocks, it's faster if we run!"

"Why the hell are we running?!" Jughead yelled, jogging after her.

_"ELIZABETH COOPER ARE YOU STILL LISTENING TO ME?" _Betty forgot her mom was still on the phone. _"GET YOUR ASS BACK TO MY OFFICE, NOW!"_

"Sorrymomgottagocallyoubackbye!" Betty shouted into her phone, hanging up and cutting Alice off.

Jughead grabbed her arm, forcing her to slow down. "Jughead—"

_"Explain,"_ he insisted.

She let out a noise of frustration. They didn't have _time_ to stop. "Alexander will be targeting someone at the Summit!" she explained quickly. "And if it's happening tonight, then we need to get there _now, _before someone else dies."

He took a few brief seconds to process her words before he quickly motioned forward. "Okay—okay, you have my attention. Let's go."

"Thank you!" she said in exasperation, breaking back into a run again but continuing to explain her theory. "It's a perfect plan, think about it! Alexander gets John Doe to take his place and then _shoots_ him, faking his own death. That way he can sneak around the Summit, completely under the radar. Because who would be looking for someone that's supposed to be dead?"

"Fuck—and Alice already told Kevin to take Ordinov off of our threat list," Jughead added. He wouldn't be on anyone's radar, now.

"Exactly!" They turned the last corner and she let out a gasp, stopping dead in her tracks. "Where the hell is my car?!" she shouted. Her car was gone, no longer where she had parked it in front of the morgue.

Jughead simply laughed, pointing to the sign on the curb that said NO PARKING. VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED. "That's what you get for listening to Andrews."

She stalked up to him furiously. "You have some nerve, laughing at me! That was our only ride—how the hell are we supposed to get to the Summit, now?"

He didn't even answer, just walked right up to a random motorcycle parked across the street.

"Jughead, _no_—we've broken enough laws today," Betty protested as he hopped on.

"And what laws are we breaking, now, exactly?"

"This is the very definition of grand theft auto—"

The roar of the motorcycle interrupted her, and Jughead looked at her smugly from the seat. "You were saying?"

"This is _yours?"_ Betty looked at the bike uncertainly before her demeanor quickly shifted, turning angry as she recalled how they both ended up in the same place. "Wait a minute—you seriously hopped on this _thing_ and followed me all the way from Langley? What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how stalker-ish that sounds? I swear to god, Jughead—"

He impatiently revved the engine, interrupting her with another loud roar of the bike. "Are you going to keep yelling, or do you want to hop on?" Betty's glare faltered as she looked the bike over once again, clearly uncomfortable. Jughead rolled his eyes. "We could always _walk_ to the Summit. Or catch a bus. Or..." He smirked. "We could call your _mom_..?"

Betty groaned in defeat, shooting him an annoyed look. The thought of her raging mother was just the push she needed. "I'm only doing this because we have to," she stated, climbing on behind him.

He had that smug look on his face, again. "Sure you don't want to walk there?"

"Shut up," Betty muttered, clutching his leather-clad shoulders with a death grip. She was balancing herself on the very back of the seat, trying to figure out how to _not _press right up against him. After their way-too-frisky elevator ride, she wanted to place as much distance as possible between them.

"What are you, _shy, _now? Get over here, or you're gonna fall off." She yelped in surprise when grabbed her thighs and yanked her forward, effectively pressing her all the way up against his body. "Better."

Betty just grumbled, resting her chin on his shoulder and peering over at him with narrowed eyes. "Satisfied?"

Jughead looked amused. "Almost. I just need _these_—" he reached up to grab her hands, prying them away from his leather. "—to go right _here."_ He dragged them down to his waist, tapping them lightly. "Now, relax."

"I'll relax if you go slow." He chose that moment to release the kickstand, and her eyes widened nervously as she felt the bike start to tilt dangerously towards the ground. _"Slow!_ _I said slow!"_

"Okay, okay!" He chuckled. "I promise to go slow!"

"Good," she said, gripping his waist even tighter.

He revved the engine louder, pausing just long enough to call out, "Hey, Betty?"

"What?"

"I'm lying!" he shouted as he pulled away from the curb at full-speed.

* * *

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